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R TRI-WEEKLY PUBLICATION OF THE BEST CURRENT R STANDARD LITERATURE 


Vol. 11. Xo. 660. April 10, 1385. Annual Subscription, $30.00. 


ADVENTURERS 


GUSTAVE AIMARD 


A i thor OF “PEARL OF THE ANDES, 
“ THE TRAIL-HUNTER,” Etc. 


Filtered at the Post Office, N. Y., as second-class matter. 
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HENRY GEORGE’S LATEST WORK 


Protection or Free Trade ? 

AN EXAMINATION OF THE TARIFF QUESTION WITH ESPECIAL REGARD 
TO THE INTERESTS OF LABOR. 

By HENRY GEORGE, 

Author of “ Progress and Poverty,” “Social Problems/ 
“The Land Question,” etc. 


13mo, Olotli. Price, $1.50. 


CONTENTS. 


I. Introductory, 
n. Clearing ground, 
in. Of method. 

IV. Protection as a universal need. 

V. The protective unit. 

VI. Trade. 

"VTI. Production and producers. 
Vm. Tariffs for revenue. 

IX. Tariffs for protection. 

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trade. 

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XV. Of advantages and disadvan- 
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tection. 


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XVll. Protection and producers. 
XVm. Effect of protection on Am- 
erican industry. 

XIX. Protection and wages. 

XX. The abolition of protection. 

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trade. 

xxm. The real strength of pro- 
tection. 

XXIV. The paradox. 

XXV. The robber that takes all 

that is left. 

XXVI. True free trade. 

XXVTI. The lion in the path. 
XXVni. Free trade and socialism. 
XXIX. Practical politics. 

XXX. Conclusion. 


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Utterance 


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“ Solutions Societies” translated by Marie Howland. 


“Social Solutions,” a semi-monthly pamphlet, containing each 
a twelfth part of an admirable English translation of M. Godin’s state- 
ment of the course of study which led him to conceive the Social 
Palace at Guise, France. There is no question that this publication 
makes an era in the growth of the labor question. It should serve as 
the manual for organized labor in its present contest, since its teachings 
will as surely lead to the destruction of the wages system as the aboli- 
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of these are translated from M. Godip’s contributions to the socialistic 
propaganda in Europe. 

Published as regular issues of the “ Lovell Library,” by the 
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JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY, 


11 and 16 Vcsey Street, 


NEW YORK \ 


THE 


ADVENTURERS 


S $toij of a f ofo-CJias* 

» 


»r 

G U STAVE 



AIMARD 


AUTHOR OF “pearl Or THE ANSI's/' “ TRA1L-HUNTB K," “PIRATISOF THE PRAIR*^® 
** TRAPPER’S DAUGHTER “ TIGRR SLAVER,” “ GOLD-SERKRHR, ’ INDIAN CHIEF,’* 

•* Eco track,” rtc- 



revised AND EDITED BY PERCY B. ST, JOHN 


NEW YORK 

JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY 

14 and 16 VeseY Street 

\v\ s. • 


TZ.3 

A 


rnow»a 

OnMTtNQ AND BOOKClNMNa OtMMIC 

nt* romc. 


PREFACE. 


With the publication of the present and the succeeding volumes 
'{he most important series of Aimard’s Tales of Indian Life and 
Adventure will be perfected. To preserve continuity, the volumes 
of tiiis series should be read in the following order 

1. Thb Adventurers. 

2. The Pearl of the And**. 

3. The Trail-Hunter. 

4. Pirates of the Prairie. 

3 . The Trapper’s Daughter. 

6. The Tiger Slayer. 

7. The Gold Seekers. 

8. The Indian Chiep. 

9. The Red Track. 

Gustave Aimard has a precedent in Fenimore Cooper for intro- 
ducing the same hero in a long range of volumes, and, like his great 
predecessor, he has so arranged that each work should be complete 
in itself, and not necessitate the perusal or purchase of another. But 
Aimard has one marked advantage over Cooper; for, whiie “Leather- 
Stocking*' »s but a creation of the fancy, or, at the most, the type of 
the Backwoodsman, the Count Louis who figures as the hero of 
Aimard’s series is a real man. Count de Kaousset Boulbon, had he 


iv 


succeeded in his daring attempt of founding an independent kingdom 
in Mexico, would, in all probability, have become the Napoleon of the 
West. A gallant adventurer and thorough gentleman, he staked his 
life upon the issue, and ended his career the victim of unparalleled 
treachery, as our Author has faithfully recorded. Hence Aimard ‘s 
romances have the great merit of being founded on an historic basis, 
and but little fiction was required to heighten the startling interest of 
each narrative. 

Valentine Guillois, there is very little doubt, is intended for the 
Author himself, with all his qualities and defects. When Aimard first 
reached the New World he was the true, reckless Parisian ; but 
constant intercourse with nature rendered him a generous and 
thoughtful friend of humanity. So soon as he returned to civiiisa* 
tion, he began recording the history of his past life ; not so much for 
a livelihood, as for the pleasure he felt in living once again the life of 
excitement and adventure which he had known among the Indians. 
Aimard’s books are written without an effort ; they flow spon- 
taneously from his pen ; and the absence of artistic effect is the best 
guarantee of their truthfulness. 

It is not surprising, therefore, that Gustave Aimard’s books have 
attained an extensive popularity. They have been translated into 
nearly every modern language. The reception given to them in this 
country has been most flattering, and each day heightens their 
popularity. Hence it is not too much to assume that Aimard ’s 
Indian Tales have become recognised as standard works with young 
readers, for whom they are especially adapted; because Gustave 
Aimard has never yet written a line which couid prove offensive to 
the most delicate mind j or which, dying, he would wish to erase. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 


I. THE CHAPARRAL . , , 

II. THE FOSTER-BROTHERS . . 


• 

• 

• 

• 

• • • 

• • 

III. THE RESOLUTION 

IV. THE EXECUTION 


• 

• 

• 

• 

• • • 

• • 

V. THE PASSAGE .... 

VI. THE LINDA .... 


• 

• 

• • • 

VII. HUSBAND AND WIFE . . . 

VIII. THE DARK HEARTS . . 


• 

• 

• 

• 

• • • 

• • 

IX. IN THE STREET .... 

X. SWORD-THRUSTS 


• 

• 

• 

• 

• • • 

• • 

XI. GENERAL BUSTAMENTE 

XII. THE SPY 


• 

• 

• • • 

XIII. LOVE 

XIV. THE QUINTA VERDE. . 


• 

• 

• 

• 

• • • 

• • 

XV. THE DEPARTURE .... 
XVI. THE MEETING .... 


• 

• 

• • • 

XVII. THE PUEICHES . . . . 

XVIII. THE BLACK JACKAL . . . 


• 

• 

• • • 

XIX. TWO OLD FRIENDS. . 

XX. THE SORCERER. 


• 

• 

• 

• 

• • • 

• • 

XXI. THE OBSEQUIES OF AN APO-ULMEN 
XXII. EXPLANATIONS. 


• 

• 

• • • 

XXIII. HOW TO COOK AN EGG . 

XXIV. THE SUN-TIGER 


• 

• 

• 

• 

• • • 

• • 

XXV. THE MATRICIDE .... 
XXVI. THE JUSTICE OF THE DARK HEARTS 
XXVII. THE TREATY OF PEACE 

XXVIIi. THE ABDUCTION 


• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• • • 

• • 

• • • 

• • 

XXIX. THE PROTEST .... 

XXX. SPANIARD AND INDIAN 


• 

• 

• 

• 

• • • 

• • 

XXXI. IN THE MOUNTAIN 

XXXII. ON THE WATCH 


• 

• 

• 

• 

• • • 

• • 

XXXIII. FACE TO FACE .... 

XXXIV. THE REVOLT .... 


• 

• 

• • • 

XXXV. THE LION AT BAY .... 

XXXVI. THE TRUCE .... 


• 

• 

• • # 

XXXVII. TWO ROGUISH PROFILES . . 

XXXVIII. THE WOUNDED MAN 


• 

• 

• 

• 

• • • 

• • 

XXXIX. A R A U CAN I A N DIPLOMACY . . 

XL. THE COUNCIL .... 


• 

• 

• • • 

XLI. TWO HATREDS .... 

XLII. THE RETURN TO VALDIVIA. 


• 

• 

• 

• 

% • • 

• • 

XLIII. THE FATHER REVEALS HIMSELF 

XLI V. CURUMILLA .... 


• 

• 

• • • 


PAOB 

7 

9 

12 

*5 

J 7 

i8 

21 

24 

27 

30 

33 

36 

40 

43 

46 

49 

5i 

54 

56 

60 

64 

66 

7i 

73 

76 

79 

81 

83 

86 

89 

92 

93 
96 
98 

100 

102 

J0 5 

107 

no 

1 12 

1 14 

n6 

118 

n 9 




THE ADVENTURERS 


CHAPTER I. 

THE CHAPARRAL. 

During my last sojourn in America, chance, or rather my good star, led me to 
form an acquaintance with one of those hunters the type of whom has been 
immortalised by Cooper. 

The strange circumstance by which we were brought together was as follows. 
Towards the end of July, 1855, I had left Galveston, terrified at the fevers 
prevalent there, which are so fatal to Europeans, with the intention of visiting 
the north-west portion of Texas, a country I was then unacquainted with. 

I carelessly wandered here and ther^, living that nomadic life which is so full 
of attractions; at times stopping at a tolderia, at others encamping in the 
desert, hunting wild animals. 1 had, in this fashion, passed through, without 
any untoward accident, Fredericksburgh, the Liana Braunfels, and had just left 
Castroville, on mv wav to Quichi. Castroville is nothing but a miserable agglo- 
meration of ruined cabins, cut at right angles by streets choked with weeds, 
growing undisturbed, and concealing multitudes of ants, reptiles, and even 
rabbits of a very small breed, which spring up beneath the feet of the few 
passengers. 

At Gaiveston I had undertaken to deliver a letter to an inhabitant of Castro- 
ville. Charmed by the arrival of a stranger who, no doubt, brought him news 
for which he had been long anxious, he received mein the most cordial manner. 
Unfortunately, the little I had seen of Castroville had sufficed to completely 
disgust me with it, and my only wish was to get out of it as quickly as possible. 

“ Adieu, then," said my host, warmly pressing my hand, with a sigh of 
regret; ‘‘since you are determined to go, may God protect you I You are 
wrong in setting out so late ; the road you have to travel is dangerous.” 

I smiled at this warning, which I took for a last effort of a worthy man to 
detain me. 

“ Bah 1 ” I replied gaily ; “ the Indians and I are too old acquaintances for 
me to fear anything.” 

My host shook his head and retreated into his hut, making me a last farewell 
greeting. 1 again set forward. I soon began to reflect that it was full late, 
and pressed my horse, in order to pass, before nightfall, a chaparral, or large 
thicket of underwood, of at least two miles in length, against which my host 
had particularly warned me. This ill-famed spot had a very sinister aspect. 
The mezquite, the acacia, and the cactus constituted its sole vegetation, while 
here and there whitened bones and planted crosses plainly designated places 
where murders had been committed. Beyond that extended a vast plain, called 
the Leona, covered by gr.ass at least two feet in height, and dotted at intervals 
with thickets of trees, upon which warbled thousands of golden-throated star- 
lings, cardinals, and blue-birds. 


8 


The Adventurers. 


I was beginning to hope I should reach the Leona l safe and sound, when, all 
at once, my horse made a violent bound on one side, pricking up its ears, and 
snorting loudly. The sudden shock almost threw me out of the saddle. As 
always happens in such cases, I instinctively looked round me for the cause of 
this panic, and soon the truth was revealed to me. A cold perspiration bedewed 
my brow, and a shudder of terror ran through my whole frame, at the horrible 
spectacle which met my eyes. Five dead bodies lay stretched beneath the trees 
within ten paces of me. Among them was one of a woman and one of a girl 
about fourteen years of age. They all belonged to the white race. They 
appeared to have fought long and obstinately before they fell ; they were 
literally covered with wounds ; and long arrows, with jagged barbs, and painted 
red, stood out from the bodies, which were pierced through and through. 
The victims had all been scalped. It was evidently the work of Indians, 
marked with their sanguinary rage and their inveterate hatred for the white 
race. 

At the aspect of this heart-breaking spectacle I cannot express the pity and 
grief which weighed upon my spirits ; high in the air urubus and vultures 
hovered with lazy wings over the bodies, uttering lugubrious cries of joy, whilst 
in the depths of the chaparral the wolves and jaguars began to growl 
portentously. 

I cast a melancholy glance around : all immediately near to me was quiet. 
The Apaches had, according to all appearances, surprised the emigrants during 
a halt. Gutted bales were still ranged in a symmetrical circle, and a fire was 
not yet extinguished. 

“ No ! ” said I to myself, “ whatever may happen, I will not leave Christians 
without burial.” 

My resolution, once formed, was soon carried into execution. Springing to 
the ground, I hobbled my horse, gave it some provender, and cast some branches 
of wood upon the fire, which soon sparkled and sent into the air a column of 
bright flame. Among the necessaries of the emigrants were spades and pick- 
axes, which, being of no use to the Indians, they had disdainfully left behind 
them. I at once seized a spade, and set to work to dig a grave. 

Except two or three alarms, caused by the rustling of the leaves in the bushes, 
nothing occurred to interrupt my melancholy duty. In less than three-quarters 
of an hour I had dug a grave large enough to contain the five bodies. After 
extracting the arrows, by which they were transfixed, I raised them one after 
the other in my arms, and laid them gently side by side at the bottom of the 
grave. I then hastened to throw in the mould again till it was level with the 
sod; and that being done, I dragged upon the surface all the large stones I 
could find, to keep wild beasts from profaning the dead. This duty accom- 
plished, I bowed my head towards the ground, mentally addressing a short 
prayer to the Almighty for the unfortunate beings I had buried. 

Upon raising my head I uttered a cry of surprise and terror, while at the 
same time mechanically feeling for my revolver ; fo without the least noise 
having given me warning of his approach, a man was standing within four 
paces of me, watching me earnestly, and leaning- on his long rifle. Two mag- 
nificent Newfoundland dogs were lying carelessly but quietly at his feet. 

” Fear nothing 1 ” he said. “ I am a friend. You have buried these poor 
people ; l have avenged them — their assassins are dead.” 

I silently pressed the hand that was so frankly extended to me. 

The companion I had fallen in with in so curious a manner was a man of 
about forty-five years of age, although he did not appear to be more than 
thirty-two. He was tall and well made ; his broad shoulders and muscular 


The Foster-Brothers. 


9 


limbs denoting extraordinary strength and agility. He wore the picturesque 
hunter’s costume in all its purity, that is to say, the capote or surtout (which is 
nothing but a kind of blanket worn as a robe, fastened to the shoulders, and 
falling in long folds behind), a shirt of striped cotton, large mitasses (drawers 
of doeskin, stitched with hair, fastened at distances, and ornamented with little 
beds), leather gaiters, mocassins of elk-skin, braided with beads and porcupine- 
quills, and a checked woollen belt, from which hung his knife, tobacco-pouch, 
powder-horn, pistols, and medicine-bag. His head-dress consisted of a cap 
made of the skin of a benver, the tail of which fell between his snoulders. This 
man was a type of a hardy race of adventurers who traverse America in all 
directions — a primitive race, longing for open a : r, space, and liberty, opposed 
to our ideas of civilisation, and consequently destined to disappear before the 
immigration of the laborious races, whose powerful agents of conquest are 
steam and the application of mechanical inventions of all kinds. 

This hunter was a Frenchman, and his frank, manly countenance, his 
picturesque language, his open and engaging manners, notwithstanding his 
long abode in America, had preserved a reflex of the mother country which 
awakened sympathy and created interest. 

All the countries of the New World were familiar to him ; he. had lived more 
than twenty years in the depths of the woods, and had been engaged in 
dangerous and distant excursions among the Indian tribes. Hence, although 
myself well initiated in the customs of the red-skins, and though a great part 
of my existence had been passed in the desert, I have felt myself often shudder 
involuntarily at the recital of his adventures. When seated beside him on the 
banks of the Rio Gila, during an excursion we had undertaken into the prairies, 
he would at times allow himself to be carried away by his remembrances, and 
relate to me, as he smoked his Indian pipe, the strange history of the early 
days of his abode in the New Worid. It is one of these recitals I am about to 
lay before my readers — the first in order of date, since it is the history of the 
events which led him to become a woodranger. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE FOSTER-BROTHERS. 

On the 31st of December, 1834, at eleven o’clock in the evening, a man of about 
twenty-five years of age, of handsome person and countenance and aristocratic 
appearance, was reclining, in a luxurious easy-chair, near a massive grate within 
wmch sparkled a bright fire. This p rsonage was the Count Maxime Edouard 
Louis de Prebois-Crance. His countenance, of a cadaverous paleness, formed a 
striking contrast with his black curly hair, which fell in disorder upon his shoulders. 
His brows were knit, and his eyes were fixed with feverish impatience upon the dial 
of a clock, whilst his left hand, hanging carelessly by his side, played with the silky 
ears of a magnificent Newfoundland dog. The room in which the count was sitting 
was furnished w.th all the refinement of comfort invented by modern luxury. A four- 
branched chandelier, with rose-coloured wax candles, placed upon a table, was 
scarcely sufficient to enliven the room. Without, the rain was dashing against the 
windows violently, and the wind sighe 1 in mysterious murmurs, which disposed the 
mind to melancholy. When the clock struck the hour the count started up, as if 
aioused from a dream. 

“ He will not come I ” he said. 


to 


The Adventurers. 


But at that moment the dog, which had been so motionless, sprang up and 
bounded towards the door, which opened, and a man appeared. 

“ Here you are at last ! ’’ the c mot exclaime I. advancing towards the new-comer. 
** I had begun to be afraid that vou, like the rest, had forgotten me.” 

“ 1 do not understand you, biother, but trust you will explain yourself,” the other 
replied. 

And drawing an easy-chair towards the fire, he s t down at the other side of the 
fire, in front of the count. The dog lay down between them. 

The personage so anxiously expected by the count formed a strange contrast with 
him; for, just as M. de Prebois-Crance united in himself all the qualities which 
physically distinguish nobility of race, the other displayed all the lively, energetic 
strength of a true child of the people. He was a man of twenty-six years of age ; 
tall, thin, and peifec-’ly well proportioned; while his face, bronzed by the sun, and 
his marked features, lit up by blue eyes, sparkling with inte.ligence, wore an 
expression of bravery, mildness, and loyalty of character that created sym >athy at 
first sight. He was dressed in the degant uniform of a quartermaster-sergeant of 
the Spahis, and the Cross of the Legion of Honour glitteiel on his breast. With his 
head leaning on his right hand, a pensive brow and a thoughtful eye, he examined 
his friend attentively, whilst twisting his long, silky, light-coloured moustache with 
the other hand. 

The count, shrinking before his earnest look, which appeared trying to read his 
most secret thoughts, broke the silence abruptly. 

“ You have been a long time coming,’’ he said. 

“ This is the second time you have addressed that reproach to me, Louis,” the 
soldier replied, taking a paper from his brea-T; “you forget the terms of the note 
which your groom brought yesterday to my quarters.” 

“ It is useless to read it,” said the count, with a melancholy smile. “ I acknow- 
ledge 1 am in the wrong.” 

“ Well, then, let us see,’’ said the Spahi gaily, “ what this serious aff lir is which 
makes you stand in need of me. Explain : is there a woman to be carried off ? '* 

“ Nothing that you can possibly imagine,” the count interi up ted him bitterly; 
“ therefore, do not waste time in useless suimises.” 

“ What the devil is it, then ? ” 

‘‘1 am going to blow out my brains.” 

The young man uttered these wotds with so firm and resolute an accent that the 
soldier started. 

“You believe me mad, do you not ? ” the count continued. “ No, I am not mad, 
Valentine; I am only at the bottom of an abyss from vvnich I can only escape by 
death or infamy.” 

The soldier made no rep’y. With an energetic gesture he pushed back his chair, 
and began to walk about the roam with hurried steps. The count had allowed Ins 
head to sink upon his breast in a state of perfect prostration of mind. 

“ A very strong reason must have obliged you to take such a determination,” 
Val mine said, coolly; “ I will not endeavour to combat it; but I command you, by 
our friendship, to tell me fully what has le i you to form it. ’ 

*' To what purpose ? ” cried the count, impatiently ; “ my sorrows are of a nature 
which none but lie who experiences them can comprehend.” 

“ A bad pretext, brother,” replied the solder, in a rough tone; “the sorrows we 
dare not avow are of a kind that make us blush.” 

“Valentine,” said the count, with a flashing eye, “it is ill-judged to speak 
so.” 

“On the contrary, it is quite right,” replied the young man, warmly. “I 
love you; i ted you t ; c u tan ; way snou ! i deceive you? You great gentlemen. 


The Foster-Brothers. 


II 


who have only known the trouble of coming into the world, know nothing of life 
but its joys ; at the first rose-leaf which chance happens to ruffle in your bed of 
happiness you think yourselves lost, and appeal to that greatest of all cowardices — 
suicide.” 

“ Valentine ! ” the count cried, angrily. 

“ Yes,’’ continued the young man, with increased energy, “I repeat, that supreme 
cowardice! Your sorrows, indeed! I know well what they are.” 

“ You know ? ” demanded the count. 

“ L sten to me ; and when I have told you my thoughts, why, kill yourself if you 
like. Pardieu 1 do you think when I came here I did not know why you summoned 
me? A gladiator, far too weak to fight the good fight, you have cast yourself 
defencelessly among the wild beasts of this terrible arena called Paris, and you have 
fallen, as was sure to be the case. But, remember, the death you contemplate will 
complete your dishonour.” 

“Valentine — Valentine !” cried the count, “what gives you a right to speak to 
me thus ? ” 

“ My friendship,” the soldier replied, energetically, “ and the position you have 
yourself placed me in by sending for me. Two causes reduce you to despair. These 
two causes are, in the first place, your love for a Creole, who has played with your 
heart as the panther of her own savannahs plays with the inoffensive animals she is 
preparing to devour. Is that true ? ” 

The young man made no reply. With his elbows on the table, his face buried in 
his ^ands, he remained motionless. 

Valentine continued — 

“ Secondly, when, in order to win favour in her eyes, you have compromised your 
fortune, this worn. in flits away as she came, rejoicing over the mischief she has 
done, over the victims she has left on the path she has trod, leaving to you and to 
so many others the despair and the shame of having been the sport of a coquette. I 
defy you to contradict me.” 

“ Well, I adm t all that is true. It is that alone which kills me. But what care 
I for the loss of fortune ? She alone is the object of my ambit on ! I love her — I 
love her — I tell you, so that I could struggle against the whole world to obtain her ! 
Do vou not plainly see the truth of what I say? There is nothing left me but to 
die ! ” 

“ ] s this, then, more than a caprice ? Do you really love this woman ? ” said 
Valentine, presently. 

“ Have I not told you that I am ready to die for her ? ” 

“ Ay ; and you told me at the same time that you would struggle with the whole 
world to obtain her.” 

“ I did — and would. ** 

“ Well, then,” continued Valentine, “ I can help you to find this woman again — I 
can.” 

“ Oh ! you are mad ! She has left Paris, and no one knows into what region of 
America she has retreated.” 

“ Of what consequence is that ? ” 

“And then, besides, I am ruined l” 

“ So much the better.” 

“ Valentine, be careful of what vou say,” the young man remarked. 

“ Hope, man ! — hope, I tell you.” 

“ Oh, no; no. that is impossible ! ” 

“Nothing is impossible; that is a word invented by the impotent and the 
cowardly. I repeat that I not only will find this woman for you again, but that she 
yhail be afraid lest you despise her love.” 


The Adventurers . 


f 2 


“Oh!” . . 

** Who knows? You yourself may then reject it. * 

“ Valentine ! Valentine ! ’ 

“ Well, to obtain this glorious result, I only ask two years.” 

“ So long ? ” 

“ Oh, such is man ! ” cried the soldier, with a faint, pitying laugh. “ But an 
instant ago and you were anxious to die, because the world had never stood in its 
true light before you; and now you have not the courage to look forward two 
years ! ” 

“Yes, but ” 

“ Be satisfied, brother — be satisfied! If in two years I have not fulfilled^my pro- 
mise, I myself will load your pistols, and then you shail not die alone, he said 
Cuollv. 

The count looked at him. Va'entine seemed transfigured : his countenance wore 
an express on of indomitable energy, which his foster-brother had never observed in 
it before ; his eyes sparkled with unwonted brilliancy. 

“ I agree,” be said warmlv. 

“ You now, then, belong to ms ? ” 

“ I give myself entirely up t.j you.” 

“ That’s well ! ” 

“ But what wdl you do ? ” 

44 Listen to me attentively,*’ the soldier said, sinking back into his chair, and 
motioning to his friend to resume his seat. At this moment the clock struck the 
hour of midnight. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE RESOLUTION. 

“ I am listening,” said Louis, leaning forward as if to hear the better. 

Valentine resumed with a melancholy smile. 

44 We have now reached the ist of January, 1835,” said he ; “ with the last 
vibration of midnight your existence as a gentleman has come to an end. 
From this time you are about to commence a life of trial. 

The count gave him an inquiring glance. 

44 I will explain myself,” Valentine continued ; “ but, in order to do that, 
you must, in the first place, allow me, in a few words, to recal your history to 
you.” 

“ Surely, I am well enough acquainted with that,” interrupted the count. 

“ Well, perhaps you are ; but, at all events, listen to my version of it ; if I err 
put me right.” 

44 Follow your own humour,” the count replied, sinking back in his chair. 

44 Your history is that of almost every m .n of your rank,” began Valentine. 
“Your ancestors, whose name can be traced to the crusades, left you at your 
birth a noble title and a hundred thousand francs a year. Rich, without having 
had occasion to employ your faculties to gain your fortune, and consequently 
ignorant of the real value of money, you spent it heedlessly, believing it to be 
inexhaustible. Only, on 1 day, the hideous spectre of ruin suddenly rose up 
before you, and then you drew back terrified, declaring there was no refuge b .t 
in 'death.” 

“ Ail that is perfectly true,” the count interrupted ; “ but you forget to 


The Resolution. 


J 3 


mention, that before forming this last resolution, I took care to put my affairs 
in order.” 

“ But your life is not your own ; it is a loan which God has made you. Every 
man who wastes the faculties which he holds from God in orgies and debaucheries 
commits a robbery upon the great human family. Remember that we are all 
mutually responsible for one another.” 

“ For Heaven’s sake, brother, a truce to your sermons ! Such theories may 
succeed with some people, but ” 

“Brother,” Valentine interrupted, “do not speak so. In spite of yourself, 
your pride of race dictates words which you will ere long regret. Certain 
people ! Oh, Louis, Louis ! how many things you have vet to learn ! But that 
we may know what we are about, reckoning all your resources, how much have 
you left ? ” 

“ About some forty thousand francs, I suppose, at most, which may amount 
to sixty thousand by the sale of these luxurious trifles,” the count said care- 
lessly. 

“ Sixty thousand francs 1 ” cried Valentine ; “ and you are in despair, and 
have made up your mind to die. Why, sixty thousand francs well employed is 
a fortune 1 ” 

“ What do you mean to do, then ? ” 

“ You shall see. What is the name of the lady you are in love with ? ” 

“ Dona Rosario del Valle.” 

“ Very well. She has, you say, gone to America ? ” 

“Ten days ago ; but I, in justice, must observe to you, that Dona Rosario, 
whom you do not know, is a noble and amiable girl.” 

“ Ah, that is very possible! Why. then, should I seek to rob you of this sweet 
illusion ? Only it makes me the more puzzled to perceive how, under these 
circumstances, you could manage to melt your fortune.” 

“ Here 1 read this note from my broker.” 

“ Oh ! ” said Valentine, pushing back the paper ; “you have been dabbling on 
the Stock Exchange, have you ? Everything is now easily explained, my poor 
pigeon 1 Well, brother, you must take your revenge.” 

“Oh, I ask nothing better ! ” said the young man. 

“We are of the same age ; my mother’s milk nourished us both ; in the eyes 
of God we are brothers 1 I will make a man of you 1 Whilst you, protected by 
your name and your fortune, allowed life to glide luxuriously away, I, a poor 
wretch wandering over the rough pavement of Paris, carried on a gigantic 
struggle to obtain a mere existence ; a struggle of every hour and every minute, 
where the victory for me was a morsel of bread and experience most dearly 
bought. But courage, Louis ! Henceforth there will be two of us to fight the 
battfe ! You shall be the head to conceive, I the arm to execute ; you the 
intelligence, I the strength 1 Now the struggle will be equal, for we will sustain 
one another.” 

“ I can fully appreciate your devotion, and I accept it. Am I not, at present, 
your oioperty ? Entertain no fear of my resisting you. But I cannot help tell- 
ing von that I fear all my attempts will be in vain.” 

“ Oh, thou man of little faith ! ” Valentine said cheerfully ; “ on the road which 
we are about to take fortune will be our slave 1 ” 

Louis could not repress a smile. 

“ We must, at all events, depend upon the aid of chance in what we are about 
to undertake,” he said. 

“ Chance 1 Chance is the hope of fools.” 

4 ‘ Well, but what do you mean to do ? ” 


H 


The Adventurers . 


“ The lady you love is in America, is she not ? ” 

“ Yes, but I do not know even in what part of America?” 

“Of what consequence is that? The New World is the country of gold—* 
the true region of adventurers ! But, tell me — this lady was born somewhere P” 

“ She is a Chilian.” 

“ Good ! she has gone back to Chili, then ; and it is there we shall find her.” 

“ What ! do you seriously mean that you will do tnis, brother ? ” he said in an 
agitated voice. 

“ Without hesitation.” 

“ But I know that in three months you will be an officer.” 

“ I have ceased to be a soldier since the morning ; i have found a substitute.” 

M But your old mother, my nurse, whose only support you are 1 ” 

We will give her a few thousand francs, which will suffice for her to live on 
\ i we come back.” 

41 Oh,” said the young man, “ I cannot accept of such a sacrifice — my honour 
forbids it ! ” 

“ Unfortunately, brother,” Valentine said, in a tone which silenced the count' 
il you have it not in your power to prevent it.” 

“ I do not understand you.” 

“ Listen then. When, after having nursed you, my mother restored you to 
your family, my father fell sick and died, leaving my mother and myself in the 
greatest want ; the little we possessed had been spent in medicines and in pay- 
‘ng the doctor for his visits. We ought to have had recourse to your family, 
Dut my mother would never consent. ‘ The Count de Prebois-Crance has 
done as much as he ought,’ she remarked j ‘ he shall not be troubled any 
more.’ ” 

“ She was wrong,” said Louis. 

“ I know she was.” Valentine replied. Hunger soon began to be felt. It was 
then I undertook all sorts of those impossible trades. One day, as I was carry- 
ing my cap round in the Place du Trone, after swallowing sabres and eating 
fire, to the great delight of the crowd, 1 found myself face to face with an officer 
of the Chasseurs d’Afrique, who looked at me with an air of pity and kindness. 
He led me away with him, made me relate my history, and insisted upon being 
conducted to the shed where I and my mother lived. At the sight of our 
miserv the soldier was much affected ; Louis, that officer was your father.” 

“ My noble and good father! ’’the count exclaimed. 

“ Yes 1 yes, noble and good 1 He secured my mother a little annuity which 
enables her to live, and took me into his own regiment. Two years ago, during 
the last expedition against the Bey of Constantine, your father was struck by a 
bullet in his chest, and died.” 

“ Yes,” the young man said, ” I know he did.” 

“ But what vou do not know, Louis, is, that at the point of death your father 
turned towards me.” 

“ ‘ Valentine,’ he said to me, in a faint voice. 4 my son is left alone, and with- 
out experience ; he has nobody but you, his foster- n*other. Watch over him — 
never abandon him 1 May I depend upon your promise? it will nrtigate tlv 
pain c% dying.’ I knelt down beside him, and, respectfully seizing the hand 1 
held out to me, exclaimed — ‘Die in peace ! in the hour of adversity l will 
always by the side of your Louis.’ Can you not now comprehend, then, why 
have spoken to you as I have done? While you held your course in your strength, 
I kept aloof ; but now that the hour has arrived for accomplishing my vow, no 
human power can prevent me from doing so.” 

The two young men were silent for a moment, and then Louis said— 


The Execution . 




“When shall we set out, brother?” 

The latter looked at him earnestly — 

“ You are fully resolved to commence a new life ? ” 

“ Entirely ! ” Louis replied, in a firm tone. 

“ Do you leave no regrets behind you ? ” 

“ None.” 

You are ready to pass bravely through all the trials to which I may expos© 
you ? ” 

“ I am.” 

“ That is well, brother 1 It is thus I wish you to be.” 

• ********* 

On the 2nd of Febuary, 1835, a packet-boat belonging to the Transatlantic 
Company left Havre, directing its course towards Valparaiso. On board this 
vessel, as passengers, were the Count de Prebois-Crance, Valentine Guillois, his 
foster-brother, and Caesar, their Newfoundland dog — Caesar, the only friend who 
had remained faithful to them, and whom th°y could not think of leaving behind. 
Upon the quay a woman of about sixty years of age, her face bathed in tears, 
stood with her eyes intently fixed upon the vessel as long as it remained in 
sight. 

This woman was the mother of Valentine Guillois. She was the most to be 
pitied, for she was left alone 1 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE EXECUTION. 

Santiago, the capital of Chili, is one of the finest cities in Spanish America. 
Its streets are broad, built in straight lines, and refreshed by acequias, or rivulets 
of clear and limpid water; while the houses, built of adobes, only one storey 
high on account of the earthquakes so frequent in this country, are vast, airy, 
and well situated. It possesses a great number of monuments, the most 
remarkable of which are the stone bridge of five arches thrown over the 
Mapocho, and the Tajamar, or breakwater, formed of two brick walls, the 
interior one of which is filled with earth, and serves to protect the inhabitants, 
from inundations. The Cordilleras, with their eternally snow-crowned summits 
although eighty miles distant from the city, appear^ suspended over it, and 
present an aspect of the most majestic and imposing kind. 

On the 5th of May, 1835, towards ten o’clock in the evening, stifling heat 
oppressed the city; there was not a breath in the air or a cloud in the heavens. 
Santiago, generally so joyous at this hour of the night, when beams from black 
eyes and smiles from rosy lips are seen at every balcony, and each window 
seems to challenge the passer-by with the twanging of sambecuejas and 
snatches of Creole songs, appeared plunged in the deepest sadness. The 
balconies and the windows were filled, it is true, with the heads of men and 
women, packed together as closely as possible, but the expression of every face 
was serious, every iook was thoughtful and uneasy : no smile, no joy could be 
witnessed. 

Here and there numerous groups were stationed in the middle of the cause- 
way, or upon the sreps of the doors, conversing in a low voice. At every 
instant orderly officers galloped off in various directions. Detachments of 


The Advenin' er a. 


16 


troops quitted their barracks, and marched, with drums beating, to the Plaza 
Mayor, vv ere they formed in line, passing silently amidst the terrified inhabi- 
tants. The Plaza Mayor on this evening afforded an exceptional appearance. 
Torches, waved about by individuals mixed with the crowd, threw their red 
dull reflections upon the assembled people, who seemed to be in expectation of 
some great event. 

But among all these people assembled on one spot, and whose number 
increased every second, not a cry could be heard. Only at intervals, there arose 
a nameless murmur — a noise of the sea before a tempest — the whisper of a 
whole anxious people — the hoarse fury of a storm lashing all these oppressed 
breasts. The clock of the cathedral heavily and slowly struck ten. 

Scarce had the serenos, according to custom, chanted the hour, ere military 
commands were heard, and the crowd violently driven back in all directions, 
with cries and oaths, accompanied by blows from gun-stocks, divided in two 
nearly equal parts, leaving between them a wide space. At this moment arose 
the sounds of religious chants, murmured in a low, monotonous tone, and a 
long procession of monks debouched upon the square. These monks belonged 
to the Order of Mercy. They walked slowly in two lines, with their hoods 
pulled down over their faces, their arms crossed over their breasts, their heads 
hanging down, and chanting the De Profundis. In the middle of them ten 
penitents each bore an open coffin. Then came a squadron of cavalry, pre- 
ceding a battalion of militiamen, in the centre of which body, ten men, bare 
headed, with their arms bound behind them, were conducted, each riding with 
his face toward the tail of a donkey. 

At the cry of halt the monks separated to the right and left, without inter- 
rupting their funeral chant, and the condemned remained alone in the middle' 
of the space left free. These men were patriots who had attempted to over- 
throw the established government, and belonged to the best families of the 
country. 

The population of Santiago viewed with sullen despair the death of these 
men. It is even probable that a rising in their favour would have taken place, 
if General Bustamente, the minister-at-war, had not drawn out a military force 
capable of imposing upon the most determined. 

The condemned alighted; they piously knelt, and confessed themselves to 
the monks of Mercy, whilst a platoon of fifty soldiers took up a position within 
twenty paces. When their confession was completed they rose up, and, taking 
each other by the hand, ranged themselves in a single line in front of the 
soldiers appointed to put them to death. In spite, however, of the great 
numbers of troops, an ominous fermentation prevailed among the people. The 
crowd rocked about in all directions. Murmurs of sinister augury and curses, 
pronounced aloud against the agents of power, seemed to remind the latter that 
they had better finish ttie affair at once. 

General Bustamente, who calmly and stoically presided over this dismal 
ceremony, smiled with disdain. He waved his sword over his head and com- 
manded “ right about face,” which was executed with the rapidity of lightning. 
The troops faced the insurgents on all sides; the front ranks pointing their 
muskets at the citizens crowded together before them, whilst the others 
appeared to take aim at the balconies encumbered with people. This was fol- 
lowed by so dead a silence that not a word was lost of the sentence read by 
the proper officer — a sentence which condemned them to be shot as traitors. 

The conspirators listened to their sentence with silent firmness; but when 
the officer had finished reading it, they all cried, as with one voice — 

** Vi\a la Patria 1 Viva la Libertad 1 ” 


The Passage, 

O 


1 1 


The general gave a signal, and the loud rolling of the drums drowned the 
voices of the condemned. A discharge of musketry resounded like a clap ot 
thunder, and the ten martyrs fell, once again shouting their cry of liberty — a 
cry doomed to find an echo in the hearts of their teriified compatriots. 

The troops filed off, with shouldered arms, ensigns flying, and band at their 
head, past the dead bodies, and regained their barracks. When the general 
had d sappeared with his escort, and the troops had left the plaza, the people 
rushed in a mass towards the spot where the martyrs of their cause lay in a 
confused heap. Every one wished to offer them a last farewell. 

At length, by degrees, the crowd became less compact, the groups dispersed, 
the last torches were extinguished, and the spot where, scarce an hour before, 
an awful drama had been accomplished, was left completely deserted. 

Suddenly, a heavy sigh escaped from the heap of bodies, and a pale head, 
disfigured by the blood and dirt which stained it, arose slowly from this human 
slaughter-house, pushing aside with difficulty the carcases which had covered 
it. ihe victim, who, by a miracle, survived this bloody hecatomb, cast an 
anxious look around him, and, passing his hand over his brow, said — 

“ My God ! my God 1 grant me strength to live, that I may avenge myself 
and my country.” 

Then, with incredible courage, this man, too weak from the blood he had 
lost, and was still losing, to stand, or to escape by walking away, began to 
crawl along upon his hands and knees, leaving behind him a long wet track, 
and directing his course towards the cathedral. At every yard he stopped to 
take breath. Scarce had he left the centre of the plaza and its horrid sacrifice 
fifty paces behind him, and that with immense difficulty, when, from a street 
which opened just before him, issued two men. 

“ Oh 1 ” the unhappy man cried, in utter despair, “ I am lostl I am lost l 
Heaven is not just ! ” And he fainted. 

The two men, on coming up to him, stopped with great surprise ; they leant 
over him, and examined him with care and in an anxious manner. 

“ Well ? ” said one of them, at the end of a minute or two. 

“ He is alive,” the other replied. 

Without uttering another word, they rolled up the wounded man in a poncho, 
lifted him on their shoulders, and disappeared in the gloomy depths of the 
Street by which they had come. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE PASSAGE. 

It is a long voyage from Havre to Chilj. The man accustomed to the atmo- 
sphere of Paris necessarily finds the life on shipboard insipid and monotonous. 
It is certainly tedious to remain months together in a vessel, confined to a cabin 
a few feet square, without air and without sun, almost without light, and to 
have no walk but the narrow deck of the ship, no horizon but the rolling of the 
tranquil sea— at all times and everywhere nothing but sea. 

The Count de Prebois-Crance and Valentine Guillois had undergone the 
disoersion of all the illusions and all the ennuis attendant upon a first sea 
voyage. During the first days they were employed in recalling the vivid 
remembrance of that other life from which they had parted for ever. They 
talked over the surprise which the sudden disappearance of the count would 


The Adventurers , 


i« 


caus^ in the fashionable society from which he had fled without warning, and 
without leaving any means of tracing him. Forgetting for a while the distance 
which separated them from the America to which they were bound, they dwelt 
at great length upon the unknown pleasures which awaited them upon that 
g >lden soil, that land of promise for all sorts of adventurers, but which, alas ! 
often offers those who go thither in the hope of gaining an easy fortune nothing 
but disappointment and sorrow. 

Often during the passage the young count had felt his courage flag, and his 
faith in the future abandon him, when thinking of the life of struggles and 
trials that awaited him in America. But Valentine, by his inexhaustible gaiety, 
his incredible store of anecdotes, and his incessant sallies, always succeeded in 
smoothing the wrinkles from the brow of his companion, who, with his habitual 
carelessness and want of energy, allowed himself to sink under that occult 
influence of Valentine which remoulded him, without his cognisance, and 
gradually made a new man of him. 

Such was the state of mind in which our two personages found themselves 
when the packet-boat cast anchor in the roads of Valparaiso. Valentine, with 
his imperturbable assurance, was persuaded that the people he was about to 
have to do with were very much beneath him in intelligence, and that he could 
manage very well to attain the double object which he aimed at. The count 
entirely depended upon his foster-brother for finding for him the woman he 
loved, and whom he had come so far to seek. As to retrieving his fortune, he 
did not even dream of that. 

Valparaiso — Valley of Paradise — so named probably by antiphrasis, for it is 
the filthiest and ugliest city in Spanish America — is nothing but a depot for 
foreigners, whom commercial interests do not call into Chili. Our young men 
only remained there long enough to equip themselves in the costume of the 
country ; that is to say, to assume the Panama hat, the poncho, and polenas ; 
then, each armed with two double-barrelled pistols, a rifle, and a long knife in 
his belt, they took their course towards Santiago on the evening preceding the 
day on which the execution we have described in the preceding chapter was to 
take place. The weather was magnificent; the rays of a burning sun 
rendered the very dust golden, and made the stones of the road shine like 
jewe Is. 

“ Ah ! ” said Valentine, as soon as they found themselves upon the superb 
road which leads to the capital of Cniii ; “ it does one good to breathe the air of 
the land. Well, now, here we are in this boasted America, and now we must 
set about collecting our harvest of gold.” 

“ And Dona Rosario?” said his foster-brother, in a melancholy tone. 

“ Oh ! we shall have found her within a fortnight,” replied Valentine, with 
astounding confidence. 


CHAPTER VI* 

THE LINDA. 

The night was gloomy; no star glittered in the heavens ; the moon, concealed 
by clouds, only spread a wan, pale light, which, when it disappeared, rendered 
the darkness the denser. The streets were deserted ; but at regular intervals 
the furtive steps of the serenos, who alone watched at this hour, were audible. 

The two men whom we have seen upon the Plaza Mayor, bearing away the 
wounded man, walked tor a long time, loaded with their strange burthen, 


The Linda , 


19 


stopping at the ’east noise, and concealing themselves in the depths of a door 
wa v, or in the angle of a street, to allow the serenos to pass, as they would hr 
s re to require a reason for their being in the streets at that unusual hour, 
Since the discovery of the conspiracy, orders had been given that at eleven 
o’clock every citizen should be within doors. After many turnings and windings 
the strangers stopped in the street El Mercado, one of the most secluded and 
narrow in Santiago. They appeared to be expected, for a door was opened at 
the sound of their steps, and a woman, dressed in white, and holding a candle, 
the light of which she shaded with her left hand, appeared on the threshold. 
The two men stopped, and one of them, taking a steel from his pocket, struck 
the flint so as to produce as few sparks as poss ble. At this signal the woman 
extinguished the light, saying with a loud voice— 

“ Dios proteja a Chili (May God protect Chili).” 

“ Dios lo ha protegido (God has protected it),” the man with the flint and 
steel replied. 

The woman uttered a cry of joy. 

“Come in, come in,” she said, in alow voice ; and in an instant the two men 
were beside her. 

“ Is he alive? ” she asked, with intense anxiety. 

“ He is alive,” one of the strangers laconically replied. 

The bearers, guided by the woman, who had relighted her candle, disappeared 
in the house. All the houses of Santiago are alike. To describe one is to 
describe all. A wide doorway, ornamented with pilasters, leads to the great 
entrance-court, at the end of which is the prin ipal apartment, generally the 
dining-room. On each side are bed-chambers, reception-rooms, and cabinets 
for labour or study. Behind these apartments is the huerta , or garden, laid out 
with taste, ornamented with fountains, and planted with orange-trees, citron- 
trees, pomegranates, limes, cedars, and palm-trees, which grow with incredible 
luxuriance. 

The house into which we have introduced the reader only differed from the 
others in the princely luxury of its furniture. The two men, still preceded by 
the woman, who served them as guide, entered a little room, whose window 
opened on the garden. They laid their burden down upon a bed, and retired 
without speaking a word. 

The woman remained for a moment motionless, listening to the sound of 
their retreating footsteps ; and when all was silent she sprang with a bound 
towards the door, the bolts of which she fastened with an impetuous gesture, 
then returned and placed herself beside the wounded min. 

This woman, though really thirty-five years of age, appeared to be scarcely 
more than five-and-twenty. She was of an extraordinary, but a strange style 
of beauty ; it attracted attention, commanded admiration, but created an 
instinctive repulsion. In spite of the majestic splendour of her graceful form, 
the elegance of her carriage, the freedom of her motions, full of voluptuous 
ease — in sp'te of the purity of the fines of her fair face, slightly tinged by the 
warm rays of an American sun, which the magnificent tresses of her black hair 
beautifully enframed, her large black eyes, ornamented with long velvety lashes, 
and crowned by perfectly-arched brows, her straight nose, with its mobile and 
rosy nostrils, her little mouth, whose blood-red lips contrasted admirably with 
her pearl-white teeth — in spite of all these rich endowments, there was in this 
splendid creature something fatal which chilled the heart as you contemplated 
her. Her seaiching glance, the satirical smile which almost always contracted 
the corners of her lips, the slight wrinkle, which formed a harsh, deep line along 
her white brow — everything about her, even to th* melodic^" ~ound of her 


The Adventurers , 


2s> 


voice, with its strongly-accentuated pitch, destroyed Sympathy, and produced a 
feeling of hatred rather than respect. 

Alone in that chamber, dimlv lighted by one flickering taper, in that calm 
and silent night, face to face with that pale, bleeding man, whom she contem- 
plated with stern, contracted brows, she resembled, with her long black hair, 
falling in disorder from her shoulders on to her white robe, a Thessalian witch, 
preparing herself to accomplish some terriale and mysterious work. 

The stranger was a man of forty-five years of age, of lofty stature, strongly 
built, and well proportioned. His features were handsome, his brow noble, and 
the expression of his countenance resolute. 

The woman remained for a considerable time in mute contemplation. At 
length words forced their way through her compressed lips. 

“ Here he is, then ; this time, at least, he is in my power 1 Will he consent 
to answer me ? ” 

She paused to breathe a deep, broken sigh, but almost immediately con- 
tinued — 

“ My daughter ! of whom this man has bereaved me ! and whom, in spite of 
all my researches, he has hitherto concealed. My daughter ! he must restore 
her to me ; it is my will ! ” she added with enexpressible energy. “ He shall, 
even if I had to deliver him up again to the executioners ! These wounds are 
nothing ; loss of blood and terror are the sole causes of this insensibility. But 
time passes. Why should I hesitate longer ? Let me at once know what I have 
to hope. Perhaps he will allow himself to be softened by my tears and prayers. 
No, he will laugh at my grief ; he will reply by sarcasms to my cries of 
despair. Oh ! woe, woe be to him if he do so 1 But I will try.” And in a 
convulsive manner she drew from her bosom a small crystal phial, curiously 
cut, and made the unknown inhale the contents. This was followed by a mo- 
ment of intense expectation ; the woman watching with an anxious eye the 
convulsive movements which are the precursors of the return to life, as they 
agitated the body of the wounded man. At length, with a deep sigh, he opened 
his eyes. 

“ Where am 1 ? ” he murmured in a faint voice. 

“ In safety,” the woman replied. 

The sound of the voice produced upon the wounded man the effect of an 
electric shock. He raised himself quickly, and looking around him with a 
mixture of disgust, terror, and anger, asked in a hollow voice — 

“Who spoke?” 

“ I ! ” the woman replied haughtily. 

“ Ah ! ” he said with a gesture of disgust, “you again ! ” 

“Yes, I! still I, Don Tadeo ! I, whose will, in spite of your disdain, has 
never faltered ! I, in short, whose assistance you have always obstinately 
refused, and who have saved you.” 

“ Oh ! that is easy, madam ; are you not on the best possible terms with my 
executioners ? ” 

At this reply the woman could not repress a movement of anger ; a sudden 
redness flitted across her face. 

“ No insults, Don Tadeo ! ” she said, stamping her foot ; “ I am a woman, and 
you are under my roof ! ” 

“ That is true,” he replied, rising and bowing to her with ironical respect; “1 
had forgotten that, madam ; I am in your house. Have the goodness, then, to 
direct me the way out.” 

“ Do not be in such haste, Don Tadeo ; you have not yet sufficiently recovered 
your strength. Within a few steps you would be caDtured by your foes.” 


Husband and Wife. 


21 


‘‘And who told you, madam, that I should not prefer being retaken and 
executed a second time to the chance of remaining longer in your presence ? ” 

“ Listen to me, Don Tadeo,” said the woman. “In spite of all your efforts, 
destiny, woman’s genius, has brought us together once again. If you live, it 
is because I lavished my gold upon the soldiers charged with your execution. I 
wished to force you to that explanation which I have so long demanded of you. 
Submit, then, with a good grace. We will afterwards separate, if not good 
friends, at least indifferent, never to meet again. Though I do not wish to 
establish any claim upon your gratitude, you certainly owe your life to me.” 

“What! madam,” Don Tadeo replied, proudly, “do you think that I con- 
sider what you have done was a service P By what right have you saved me ? 
You know me but ill if you fancied I should allow myself to be softened by your 
tears. No, no, I have been too long your dupe and your slave to do so. 
Heaven be praised ! I know you well now ; and the linda, the mistress of 
General Bustamente, the tyrant of my country, the executioner of my brothers 
and myself, has nothing to expect from me ! Away, madam ! — away l There 
can be nothing in common between you and me.” 

And with a gesture of proud authority he waved her from him. 

The woman had listened to him with flashing eyes and heaving bosom, trem- 
bling with rage and shame. Drops of perspiration stood upon her face, which 
glowed with a feverish redness. When he had finished she seized his arm, 
pressed it with her utmost strength, and placed her face close to his. 

“ Have you said all ?” she muttered from between her teeth. “Have you 
heaped insults enough upon me ? Have you nothing more to add ? ” 

“ Nothing, madam,” he replied. “ You can, when you please, summon your 
assassins ; I am ready.” 


CHAPTER VII. 

HUSBAND AND WIFE. 

Dona Maria, notwithstanding the fresh and bitter insult she had just received 
from Don Tadeo, did not yet renounce the hope of softening him. When she 
recalled to her mind the early years, already so distant, of her love for Don 
Tadeo, his devotion to her srrrallest caprices, when she could bring him trem- 
bling and prostrate to her feet by a glance or a smile, and the entire abnegation 
he had made of his will in order to live for her and by her ; notwithstanding 
all that had since taken place, she could not persuade herself that the violent 
and deeply-seated passion he had entertained for her could have entirely dis- 
appeared. Her pride revolted at the idea of having lost all her empire over 
the lofty nature which she so long had moulded at her pleasure. She fancied 
that, like most other men, Don Tadeo, deeply wounded in his pride, loved her 
still without being willing to admit it. 

Unfortunately Dona Maria had never given herself the trouble to study the 
man she had married. Don Tadeo had been nothing in her eyes but an atten- 
tive, submissive slave, and, under the apparent weakness of the loving man, 
she had not discovered the powerful energy which formed the foundation of his 
character. Dona Maria, when fifteen years of age, dwelt with her fat; er in a 
hacienda, in the neighbourhood of Santiago. Deprived of her mother, who had 
died in giving her birth, she was brought up under the care of an old aunt, who 
allowed no lover to come near her niece. The young girl, ignorant as all 


22 


The Adventurers . 


girls brought up in the country are, but whose warm aspirations led her to 
desire to know the world, waited impatiently the arrival of the man who should 
introduce her to its delights. Don Tadeo had only been the guide charged with 
initiating her into the pleasures for which she thirsted. She had never loved 
him ; she had only said to herself, on seeing him and learning he was of a noble 
family, “ That is the man.” 

This hideous and selfish caculation is made by more girls than we fancy. 
Don Tadeo was handsome. Dona Maria's self-love was flattered by the con- 
quest ; but if he had been ugly and disagreeable it would not have altered her 
course. In her extraordinary character, there was the spirit of two women of 
ancient Rome ; Locusta and Messalina were united in her : ardent, passionate, 
and ambitious, covetous and prodigal, this demon, concealed under the outward 
form of an angel, acknowledged no other laws but her own caprices. 

For a long time, Don Tadeo, blinded by passion, had submitted without com- 
plaining to the iron yoke of this infernal genius ; but when the day arrived that 
the scales fell from his eyes he measured with terror the depth of the abyss into 
which this woman had cast him. 

Don Ta leo had by Maria an only daughter, a fair girl of angelic beauty, at 
the period of our history fifteen years of age, whom he deeply loved. He trem- 
bled to think of the frightful future which lay before this innocent creature. For 
four years he had been separated from his wife, and during that time she had 
set no bounds on her irregularities. One day Don Tadeo presented himself 
unexpectedly at the house of his wife, and, without saying a word as to his 
ulterior intentions, took away his daughter. From that time — nearly ten years 
— Dona Maria had never seen her child. 

Such was, at the moment webring them on the scene, the position of the two 
personages who now doubtless met for the last time. It was an extraordinary 
position for both ; an unequal contest between a wounded and proscribed man, 
and an ardent, insulted woman, who, like a lioness deprived of her whelps, was 
resolved to succeed, whatever might happen, and compel the man whom she 
had forced to hear her to restore her daughter to her. 

Don Tadeo turned towards her. 

!i I am waiting,” he said. 

“You are waiting?” she replied, with a friendly smile. “What do you 
expect, then ? ” 

“ The assassins whom you doubtless have at hand.” 

“ Oh ! ” she said, with an air of repulsion, “ how can you, Don Tadeo, have 
so bad ar. opinion of me? How can you pretend to believe that, after having 
saved you, I should deliver you again ? ” 

“ Who knows ? ” he replied, in a strongly ironical tone. “ The heart of 
women of your class, linda, is an abyss which no man can pretend to 
sound.” 

“ Don Tadeo, I know how unworthy my conduct towards you has been, and 
how little I deserve your pity ; but you are a gentleman, and, as such do you 
think it does you honour to load with insults, however merited, a woman who 
is your wife ? ” 

“ Very well, madam ; nothing can be more just than your observations, and 
I subscribe to them with all my heart. I beg you to pardon me for havino- 
allowed myself to utter certain words ; but, at the first movement, I was not 
master of myself, and I could not keep down in the depths of my heart the 
feelings which were stifling me. Now, accept my sincere thanks for the im- 
mense service you have rendered me, and permit me to retire, for I have no wish 
to remain here.’* 


Husband and Wife. 


»3 


And, bowing with ironical courtesy to his infuriated wife, he made a move- 
ment towards one of the doors. 

“ Are you resolved to leave me ignorant of the fate of my daughter ? ” she said. 

“ She is dead.” 

“ Dead ! ” she cried, in a vorce of terror. 

“ For you — yes,” he replied, with a cold smile. 

“ Oh, you are implacable ! ” she shrieked. 

He bowed, without making any reply. 

“ Well, then, * she resumed, “ it is now no longer a favour I implore — it is a 
bargain I propose to you.” 

“ A bargain ? ” 

“Yes, a bargain.” 

“ The idea strikes me as original.” 

“ Perhaps it is ; you shall judge for yourself.” 

“ I listen, but time presses, and I ” 

“ Oh, I will be brief,” she interrupted. 

“ I am at your service,” and he reseated himself, smiling, exactly like a friend 
on a visit. 

“ Don Tadeo,”said the linda, during the many years we have been separated 
a great number of events has taken place.” 

“ Quite correct,” said he. 

“ I will say nothing to you of myself — my life is known to you.” 

“ Very little of it, madam.” 

“ Let that pass,” she said, with a savage look at him; “ it is of you I would 
speak.” 

“ Of me ? ” 

“ Yes, of you, whose movements are not so completely absorbed by patrio- 
tism and the effervescence of political ideas as not to leave you a few more 
intimate joys.” 

“ What do you mean ? " 

“ Why do you feign ignorance? ” she said. 

“ Madam ! ” 

“ Do not deny it, Tadeo ! Tired of the ephemeral love of women of my class, 
as you have just now so well said, you £eek in the pure heart of a young girl 
emotions more in accordance with your tastes ; in a word, I know you are in 
love with a charming young creature.” 

Don Tadeo fixed upon his wife a scrutinising look while she pronounced 
these words. As she finished a sigh escaped h m. 

“ What, are you aware ? ” he exclaimed, with well-feigned surprise. “You 
know ” 

“ I know that her name is Dona Rosario del Valle,” she replied; “ whv it is 
the freshest news in Santiago ! all the world is talking of it. How was it likely 
it should escape me ? ” 

The linda interrupted herself, and laid her hand on his arm. 

“ It is of very little consequence,” she added ; “ restore me my daughter, Don 
Tadeo, and this new love of yours shall be sacred to me — if not ” 

“ You are mistaken, madam, I tell vou.” 

“ Beware, Don Tadeo 1 ” she remarked ; “ by this time the woman we are 
speaking of is in the hands of my agents.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” he cried, in great agitation. 

“Yes,” she replied, “ I have had her carried off. In a few minutes she will 
be here. Beware ! I repeat, Don Tadeo 1 if vou do not tell me where my 
daughter is.” 


34 


The Adventurers , 


“Well,” he said, haughtily, looking her full in the face, and crossing his arms, 
“ what then will you do ? ” 

“ I will kill this woman ! ” she replied, in a gloomy but firm tone. 

Don Tadeo looked at her for a moment with an indefinable expression, and 
then burst into a dry, nervous laugh, which chilled the woman with fear. 

“ You will kill her ! ” he cried. “ Unhappy woman ! Well 1 — kill her 1 Call 
in your executioners ! ” 

The linda sprang up like a lioness, and rushed towards the door, which she 
opened violently. 

“ This is too much ! Come in ! ” she called out, loudly. 

The two men who had brought in Don Tadeo appeared, poniard in hand. 

“ Ah I ” the gentleman said, with a contemptuous smile, “ I know you again 
at last.” 

At a motion from the linda the assassins advanced towards him. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE DARK HEARTS. 

As we nave seen, the people had dispersed after the execution of the patriots. 
Every one carried away in the depths of his heart the hope of avenging, at an 
early day, the victims who had so nobly died. 

And yet the square, though it seemed a desert, was not so. Several men, in 
dark cloaks, and with broad-brimmed hats pulled down over their eyes, were 
grouped in the recess of the coach entrance of a house, and were conversing 
earnestly together in a low voice. 

In spite of the terror which hovered over the city, they had, by dint of prayers, 
obtained from the Archbishop of Santiago, who was a true priest, and at heart 
devoted to the liberal cause, permission to pay the last rites to their unfortunate 
brethren. 

No part of the dismal drama which followed the execution had escaped them. 
They had seen Don Tadeo rise like a phantom from the heap of carcases 
which covered him ; they had heard the words he had pronounced, and were 
preparing to go \o his succour, when the two strangers, appearing suddenly, 
raised his body and bore it away. Two of the men went in pursuit of the 
mysterious strangers, probably in order to learn to what house the wounded 
man was taken. 

The rest anxiously bent down and examined the bodies stretched at their feet, 
hoping, perhaps, that another victim might have escaped the slaughter. Unfor- 
tunately, Don Tadeo was the only one saved by some inexplicable mystery. 
The nine other victims were all dead. After a long examination, the patriots 
stood up again with a painful sigh of regret, and one of them went and knocked 
a c a lower door of the cathedral. 

“ Who is there ? ” was asked from the interior. 

“ One for whom the night hath no darkness.” 

“ What do you want ? ” the voice asked again. 

“ Is it not written : Knock and it shall be opened to thee ? ” the stranger added, 

‘‘Our country 1 ” said the voice. 

“ Or vengeance ! ” the man promptly replied. 

The door opened, and a monk appeared. 


7 he Dark Hearts . 


25 


Well,” he said, “what do the Dark Hearts require?” 

“ A prayer for their murdered brothers,” 

“ Return to those who sent you ; they shall be satisfied.” 

“ Thanks for ail ! ” the unknown replied; and, after bowing respectfully to 
the monk, he rejoined his companions, who had placed the bodies upon hand- 
barrows concealed under the arcades of the place. 

At the expiration of a few minutes a brilliant light inundated the place ; the 
cathedral doors were opened. The interior was seen to be splendidly illumi- 
nated, and from the principal door issued a long procession of monks, each 
bearing a wax light in his hand ; they chanted, as they walked, the service of 
the dead. At the same moment the gates of the government palace were 
tnrown open as if by enchantment, and a squadron of the Ceras, with General 
Bustamente at their head, advanced at a trot towards the procession. 

When the monks and soldiers met, they stopped as of one accord. The 
twelve unknown men, folded in their cloaks, and grouped round the fountain 
which forms the centre of the square, waited anxiously. 

“ What is the meaning of this procession at such an unusual hour ? ” the 
general haughtily demanded. 

“ It means that we have come,” the monk who walked first replied, with a firm 
voice, “to take up the victims you have struck down, and give them honourable 
burial.” 

“ And who, pray, are you ? ” the general asked, sharply. 

“ I ?” the monk replied, “ I am the Archbishop of Santiago, Primate of Chili, 
invested by his holiness the Pope with the power of binding and unbinding on 
earth.” 

In Spanish America ail persons yield without hesitation to the religion of 
Christ. The only power that is real is that of the priests. No one, however 
high he may be placed, ventures to struggle against it. 

“ My lord 1 ” the general said, with a bow, “ pardon me ! In these times of 
civil discord, we often, in spite of ourselves, confound our friends with our 
enemies. I was ignorant that your lordship had given orders for prayers to be 
offered up for these criminals. I beg leave to retire.” 

During this scene the patriots had concealed themselves behind the pillars 
of the place, where, thanks to the darkness, they remained unseen by the 
general. 

“ Beware of that man, my lord,” whispered one of the unknown in the arch- 
bishop’s ear ; “ he darted at you the glance of a tiger as he retired.” 

“ Brother ! ” the priest replied calmiy, “ I am prepared for martyrdom.” 

The service commenced. As soon as it was terminated the patriots retired. 
Scarce had they proceeded a few steps along a narrow street when two men 
rose from behind an overturned cart which concealed them, and coming towards 
them, said in a low voice — 

“Our country ! ” 

“ Vengeance 1 ” one of the unknown replied. 

The two men approached. 

“ Well ! ” said tne chief, “ what have you learnt ? ” 

“All that is possible to know.” one of the new-comers replied. 

“ Whither have they transported Don Tadeo ? ” 

ei To the mansion of the linda.” 

“ To the residence of his wife ! Of the mistress of the General Bustamente l” 
the chief replied anxiously. “ By the holy Virgin ! my comrades, he is bst,ioi 
she hates him mortally. Shall we allow him to be assassinated?” 

“That would be base cowardice,” *key replied unanimously. 


2 6 


The Adventurers. 


“ But how can we introduce ourselves into the house ? ” 

“ Nothing more easy ; the garden walls are very low.” 

Without another word they all hastened off in the direction of the linda’s 
house, which was situated in the handsomest quarter in Santiago. The win- 
dows, hermetically closed, did not allow one ray of light to pass. The patriots 
stole silently round the walls, and when they reached the back they easily 
climbed the fence by sticking their poniards between the bricks. Here they 
looked carefully about them, and, after a short pause, proceeded with stealthy 
steps towards a pale, trembling light, which sent a feeble beam through the chink 
of a shutter. They were within a few paces of this window, when they suddenly 
heard a noise of what appeared a scuffle. Bounding forward like panthers, the 
strangers, who had covered their faces with masks of black velvet, dashed at the 
window, and entered the salon. 

And it was time. Don Tadeo, with a stool, had split the head of one of the 
bandits, who lay lifeless upon the floor; but the other had got him down, and, 
with his knee upon his breast, was on the point of stabbing him. With a pistol- 
shot one of the unknown blew out his brains. Don Tadeo sprang up quickly, 
exclaiming — 

“ By the Virgin 1 I thought my hour was come ! ” Then turning towards the 
masked men, he said — “ Thanks, Caballeros ! thanks for your very timely suc- 
cour ! One minute more and it would have been all over with me! The linda 
is expeditious 1 ” 

The courtesan, with features contracted by rage, and clenched teeth, looked 
on without appearing to see, overwhelmed, confounded by the scene which had 
so rapidly taken place. 

“ Without bearing malice, madam,” said Don Tadeo in a jeering tone, “this 
is a match deferred. Your fertile imagination will no doubt soon furnish you 
with the means of taking your revenge.” 

“ I hope so,” she said, with a sardonic smile. 

“ Seize this woman.” the leader of the unknown commanded ; “gag her, and 
bind her securely to the bed.” 

“ Bind me ! ” she cried ; “ do you know who I am ? ” 

“ Perfectly well, madam,” the stranger replied drily. “You are a woman for 
whom honourable people have no name.” 

“ Beware, sir,” she hissed ; “lam not to be insulted with impunity.” 

“ We do not insult you, madam ; we only wish, for a time, to put it out of 
y >ur power to do mischief. In a few days,” he continued, in a quiet, firm tone, 

we will determine wnat shall be done with you.” 

“ Done with me ! — me 1 — who then are you ? ” 

“ Who are we? Learn ! We are the Dark Hearts ! ” 

At this terrible announcement a convulsive trembling shook the limbs of the 
woman, who, retreating to the wall a prey to intense terror, exclaimed in a faint 
voice, “ My God ! my God ! I am lost.” 

At a sign from the leader one of his companions bound her securelv and 
after gagging her fastened her to the foot of the bed. Then, taking Don 
Tadeo with them, they departed by the same way they had entered. Before he 
left the room, the chief pinned a piece of parchment to the table with a dagger 
Upon this were written a few words : — 60 

“ The traitor Pancho Bustamente is cited at the expiration of ninety-three 
davs i 


“The Dark Hearts." 


*7 


CHAPTER IX. 

IN THE STREET. 

As soon as they were outside of the house the masked men dispersed in various 
directions. When they had disappeared round the corners of the neighbouring 
streets, the chief turned towards Don Tadeo, who was leaning half-fainting 
against the wall of the house. A flood of bitter reflections rushed upon his 
brain ; the incidents of that terrible night almost unsettled his reason : in vain 
he tried to recover the train of his ideas. The stranger looked at him 
for a few moments with profound attention ; then, approaching him, he laid his 
hand quietly upon his shoulder. At this sudden touch the gentleman started. 

“ What ! ” the unknown said, in a tone of reproach, “ scarcely entered on the 
good fight, and you despair already, Don Tadeo? ” 

The wounded man shook his head. 

“ You, Don Tadeo, whose lofty brow has never bent before revolutionary 
storms ; you, who in the most trying circumstances have always remained firm, 
are now pale and cast down through the vain threats of a woman 1” 

“ That woman,” he replied mournfully, “ has always been my evil genius. 
She is a demon 1 ” 

And suppose,” the unknown exclaimed, “that this woman should succeed 
in getting up another of the infamous schemes in which her brain is so fertile, a 
man of heart takes courage in a struggle.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ Do you not understand me ? Can you believe that God, who has this night 
allowed you so miraculously to escape death, has no great designs in store for 
you ? Brother,” he added, “ the existence that has been restored to you is not 
your own.” 

A moment of silence followed this appeal, during which Don Tadeo appealed 
a prey to profound despair. At length, looking at the unknown, he said with 
bitter despondency — 

“ What is to be done? Heaven is my witness that my only desire, mv so’e 
happiness, would be to see my country free ; but many generations must pass 
away before the inhabitants of this unfortunate country will be fit to form a 
people.” 

“ By what right do you presume to fathom the designs of Providence ? ” the 
unknown replied. “ Do you know what is reserved for you ? Who tells you 
that the passing triumph of our oppressors is not granted in order to render 
their future fail more terrible ? ” 

“ And who are you,” said Don Tadeo, “ whose voice has stirred the secret 
fibres of my heart ? Who authorises you to speak thus ? Who are you ? ” 

“ Of what importance is it who I am,” the unknown remarked, calmly, “if I 
succeed in persuading you that all is far from being lost?” 

“ But still ?” the wounded man said, persistently. 

“ I am he who, a few minutes ago, saved your life. That ought to suffice.' 

“ Not so,” Don Tadeo said, warmly, “ for you conceal your features under a 
mask, and the very circumstance you named gives me a right to see them.” 

“ Perhaps it does,” the unknown said, slowly removing his mask, and reveal- 
ing to Don Tadeo a manly marked face, wearing a frank and loyal expression. 

“Oh! my heart aid not deceive mel” Tadeo cried; “Don Gregorio 
Peralta 1” 


The Adventurers. 


28 


“ Yes, it is I, Don Tadeo ! ” the young man replied ; “ and I cannot comprehend 

the depression of the man whom the avengers have chos.n as their chief.” 

“ How do you know ? Notwithstanding our friendship, I have always con- 
cealed from you ” 

“ Were you not condemned to death ? ” Don Gregorio interrupted. “ Your 
companions elected me King of Darkness in your place, that is, they placed in 
my hands an immense power. Death unbound the oath of silence imposed upon 
the brethren. Your name was unknown to all ; I was as ignorant that you were 
the energetic chief who had made our society a power, as you were, mv dear 
friend, that I was one of your soldiers. But, thanks to God, you are saved, Don 
Tadeo ! Resume your place.” 

Then followed a short silence ; the two men appeared to be reflecting deeply. 
At length Don Tadeo raised his head proudly. 

“Thanks, Don Gregorio,” he said, in a firm voice, and pressing his hand 
— “ thanks for your rough words ; they have restored me to myself. I will prove 
myself worthy of you. Don Tadeo de Leon no longer exists ; the hired assassins 
of a tyrant have shot him to-night upon the Plaza Mayor. No one is left but 
the King of Darkness ! the implacable leader of the Dark Hearts ! We shall 
triumph, Don Gregorio ; for from this day I am no longer a man ; l am the 
avenging sword ! ” 

While uttering these words Don Tadeo had drawn his imposing stature up to 
its full height. 

“ Oh,” Don Gregorio exclaimed, cheerfully, “ I have found my friend again l 
Thank God ! thank God ! ” 

“ Yes, my brother,” the leader continued, “ from this moment the real 
struggle between us and the tyrant begins — a struggle without pity, without truce, 
and without mercy, which can only terminate in the complete extinction of our 
enemies.” 

“ No time is to be lost : let 11s begone ! ” Don Gregorio said. 

M But vdiither am I to go ? ” Don Tadeo asked. “ Am I not legally dead. 
My house is no longer mine.” 

“ That is true,” the lieutenant of the Dark Hearts murmured. “ Well, never 
mind that ! To-morrow the news of your miraculous resurrection will be a 
thunder-chp to our enemies ! Their awaking will be terrible I They will learn it 
with stupor.” 

“ And this time, I solemnly swear,” Don Tadeo cried, with energy, “ the fall 
of the tyrant alone shall terminate it. But you are right ; we cannot remain 
longer here. Come home with me ; unless,” he added, with a smile, “ you prefer 
asking an asylum of Dona Rosario ? ” 

Don Tadeo, who had taken Don Gregorio’s arm, stopped suddenly at this 
question. A convulsive shudder darted through his frame, a cold perspiration 
inundated his face. 

“ Oh,” he exclaimed, in a tone of agony, “ my God ! I had forgotten l ” 

Don Gregorio was terrified at the state he beheld him in. 

“ In Heaven’s mame, what is the matter? ” he asked. 

“ What is the matter; ” thechief replied, “ that woman — whom we have weakly 
failed to crush ” 

“ Well, what of her P” 

“ Oh, I have but this moment recollected a horrible threat she made.” 

“ Explain yourself, my friend ; you quite terrify me.” 

“ By her orders, Dona Rosario this very nigh: was to be carried off ; and who 
knows if, furious at my escape from her assassins, that woman has not by this 
time put her to death ? ” 


In the Street. 




“ Oh, that is frightful ! ” Don Gregorio cried. “ What is to be done ? ” 

“ Oh, that woman ! ” he replied ; u and not to be able to act.” 

“ Let us fly to Dona Rosario’s residence ! ” Don Gregorio said. 

“ Alas ! you see I am wounded ; I can scarcely support myself.” 

“ Well, when you can no longer walk I wiil carry you,” his friend said, 
resolutely. 

“ Thanks, brother ! May God help us ! ” 

And the two men, the one leaning upon the other, set off, as fast as the state 
of Don Tadco would permit, towards the residence of the lady. But, in spite of 
the earnest will that animated him, Don Tadeo felt his strength fail him. 
Whilst labouring on thus the noise of horses’ footsteps reached them from a 
distance. Torches gleamed up the street, and a troop of horsemen appeared. 

“ Oh, ohl ” Don Gregorio said, stopping, and endeavouring to make out who 
those persons could be, who, in defiance of the police regulations, dared to be 
passing along the streets at this hour of the night. 

“ Let us stop,” Don Tadeo replied ; “ I see the glitter of uniforms.” 

“ By Saint Jago ! ’’cried Don Gregorio, “it is General Bustamente himself 1 
The two accomplices are going to have a little chat together.” 

“ Yes,” the wounded man said, in a faltering voice ; “ he is going towards the 
residence of the linda.’’ 

As the horsemen were but at a short distance, the two men, fearing to be 
surprised, turned quickly into a side street, and the general and his suite 
passed by. 

“ Let us begone,” Don Gregorio said ; and his companion, aware of the 
urgency for prompt flight, made a desperate effort. They resumed their 
course, and had walked for about ten minutes, when they heard the steps of 
more horses. 

“ What can this mean ? ” he said ; “are all the people of Santiago running 
about the streets to-night ? ” 

“ Hum ! ” said Don Gregorio, “ I will find out this time.” 

All at once a female voice was heard in a lamentable tone imploring help. 

“ Make her hold her tongue, Carajas ! ” a man said. 

But the sound of that voice had reached the ears of Don Tadeo and his friend. 
At that voice, which both had recognised, they were roused to feelings of deep 
interest and anger. They pressed each other’s hand firmly ; their resolution 
was formed. 

“ Hilloah ! what is this about ? ” another individual said, pulling up his horse. 

Two men, standing firmly in the middle of the street, seemed determined to 
bar the passage of the horsemen, of whom there were five. One of them held 
a woman before him on his horse. 

“ Hilloah ! ” cried the one who had just spoken, “ get out of the wav.” 

“You shall not pass,” a deep voice replied, “ unless you release the woman 
you are bearing off.” 

“ Shan’t we ?” the horseman remarked, with a laugh. 

“Try,” said Don Gregorio, cocking his pistol; a movement silently imitated 
by Don Tadeo. 

“ For the last time, stand out of the way ! ” the horseman shouted. 

“We will not!” 

“ We will ride over you, then ! ” 

The five horsemen advanced with uplifted sabres upon the two men, who, 
firmly fixed in the middle of the street, made no effort to avoid them. 


30 


CHAPTER X. 

SWORD-THRUSTS. 

We saw in a preceding chapter the two foster-brothers gaily leaving Valpa- 
raise to repair to the capital of Chili, like Bias, carrying all their fortune with 
them. 

After a rather long ride the young men had stopped for the night in a 
miserable rancho constructed of mud and dry branches. The owner of this 
miserable dwelling, a poor peon, whose life was passed in guarding a few head 
of lean cattle, gave our travellers a hospitable reception. Quite delighted at 
having something to offer them, he had cheerfully shared with them his charqui — 
strips of meat, dried in the sun — and his harina tostada — roasted corn — the 
whole washed down with cups of detestable chicha. 

The Frenchmen, who had been literally dying of hunger, were glad of even 
these humble viands, however little savoury they might be, and after ascertain- 
ing that their horses were comfortably provided for they lay down, wrapped in 
their ponchos, upon a heap of dry leaves. 

At daybreak our two adventurers, still accompanied by their dog Caesar, who, 
whatever he might think, expressed no astonishment at this new lire, but trotted 
beside them, saddled their horses, bade farewell to their host, and set forward 
again, looking with earnest curiosity at every object that presented itself to 
their view. The li r e they were beginning, so different from that they had 
hitherto led, was, for them, full of unexpected charms. Their lungs seemed to 
expand to inhale the fresh, sharp breeze of the mountains. 

It is about thirty-five leagues from Valparaiso to Chili, as the people of the 
country are accustomed to call the capital. The handsome, broad, and well- 
kept-up road is rather monotonous, and completely devoid of interest for 
tourists. Vegetation is rare and poor; while a fine and almost impalpable dust 
arises with the least puff of wind. 

At times may be seen, at an immense height, like a black dot in space, the 
great condor of Chili, the eagle of the Andes, or the savage vulture in search of 
prey. At long intervals pass recuas of mules, headed by the yague madrina y 
whose sonorous bells are heard to a great distance, accompanying the dismal 
chant of the muleteer. Or else it is a huaso of the interior, hastening to his 
chacraor his hacienda, and who, proudly mounted upon a half-wild horse, passes 
like a whirlwind. 

With the exception of what we have described, the road is dull, dusty, and 
solitary .There is not, as with us, a single hostelry affording accommodation for 
horse and foot. Nothing! solitude everywhere and always ; hunger, thirst, and 
fatigue must be expected and endured. 

But our young men perceived nothing of this. Enthusiasm supplied the place 
of all they wanted ; the road appeared charming to them ; the journey they were 
making delightful ! They were in America ; beneath their feet was the soil of 
the New World, that privileged land, of which so many surprising accounts 
are given ; of which so many people talk, and about which so few know any- 
thing. 

At times travelling at a steady foot pace, at others enjoying a laugh and 4 
gallop, our young men arrived quietly within a league of Santiago, at about 
eleven o’clock in the evening, just at the moment when the ten Chilian patriots 
were falling on the Plaza Mayor. 


Su'ord-Tkr usts. 


“ Let us pull up here,” Valentine said cheerfully ; “ it will give our horses time 
to breathe.” 

" U P ! what for ? ” Louis asked. “ It is late ; we shall not find a single 
hotel open.” 

“ My dear friend.” Valentine replied, “you are still a Parisian ! You forget 
that we are in America. In that city, of which the numerous steeples dimly stand 
Out on the horizon before us, everybody is long since asleep. 

“ What shali we do, then ? ” 

“ Pardieu ! ” why bivouac. The night is magnificent; what better could we 
desire ? ” 

“Oh, no'hing, of course ! ” Louis replied, laughingly. 

“ Well, then, we have time to chat a little.” 

“ Chat, brother! why, we have done nothing else since mornino-.” 

“ Pardon me, I doa’t agree with you. We have talked much,°about all sorts 
of things, but we have not t Iked in the manner I mean.” 

“ Explain yourself more clearly.” 

“ Look you, brother ; an idea has just struck me. We know not what 
adventures await us in that city, yonder, cefore us. Well ! before we enter it I 
should like to have a sort of final conversation with you.” 

The young men took off their horses’ bridles, and, stretching themseives 
luxuriously upon the ground, they lit tiieir cigars. 

“ We are in America,” Valentine resumed ; “ in the country of gold, where men 
of our age can in a few years amass princely fortunes ! ” 

“ Do you know, my friend ” interrupted Louis. 

“ Oh, perfectly 1 ” said Valentine, “you are in love, and you are seeking the 
object of your love; that’s understood; but that does not at all interfere with 
our projects.” 

“ How is that ? ’’ 

“ Pardieu ! that’s plain enough. You know, do you not, that Dona Rosario 

that’s her name, 1 think — is rich ? ” 

“ Probably she may be,” the young man said impassionately. 

“That’s capital! You must understand, then, that when we have found 
her, you can only demand her hand by producing a fortune equal to her own. 
Do you understand ? ” 

“ The devil 1 I never thought of that." 

“ I know you did not ; you are in love ; and, like all other men afflicted with 
that disease, you think of nothing but the person you love. 1 am with you to 
think for both.” 

“ But how is fortune to be made so promptly P ’’ 

“Ah 1 ah ! you have come to that question at last,” Valentine said, laughing. 

“ I know no profession, Louis continued. 

“ Nor I either. But let that not alarm you.” 

“ What’s to be done ? ” 

“ I will think of it ; so set vour mind at rest. But you must be well convinced 
of one thing, and that is, that we have set foot in a land wnere the ideas are 
quite different from those of the country we have left.” 

“ You mean to say ” 

“ I mean to say that we must forget all we ha v > learnt, in order that we may 
make a colossal fortune.” 

“ By honourable means ? ” 

“I am acquainted with no other,” Valentine replied. “And remember, 
brother, that in the country in which we at present ere the point of honour U 
not at all the same as in France, and many things which with us would appear 


The Adventurers. 


3 * 


false coin are here deemed good and passable. You understa/d me, don't 
you ? ” 

“ Nearly, I think.” 

“ Very well 1 Imagine we are in an enemy’s country.” 

“ But ” 

“ Do you wish to marry the woman you love ? ” 

“ Can you ask me such a question ? ” 

“ Allow me to act, then, as I see best ! But, above all, v’hen chance throws a 
good opportunity in our way, let us be careful not to miss it.” 

“ Act just as you please.” 

“ Well, that is all I had to say to you,” and, throwing away the remains of his 
cigar, he rose. 

They were soon again in the saddle, and, at a foot’s pace, resumed their way 
towards the city. 

Midnight was striking by the clock of the Cabilc*) at the moment when they 
entered Santiago by the Canada. 

“ Everybody is asleep.” said Louis. 

“ So it seems,” Valentine replied. “ Let us look out, notwithstanding. 

At this moment two pistol-shots were heard, mingled with the gallop of horses. 
“ What can that be ? ” said Louis. “ Assassination is going on here 1 ” 
u Forward ! padieu 1 ” replied Valentine. 

They clapped spurs to their horses, and galloped at full speed in the direction 
whence the sound proceeded. They soon reached a narrow street, in the middle 
of which two men on foot were contending with five on horseback, 

“ Have at the horsemen ! ” Valentine shouted. 

** Be of good heart, gentlemen 1 ” said Louis ; “ help is at hand ! ” 

And timely help it was for Don Gregorio and his friend. A minute later and 
\hey must have succumbed. The providential arrival of the Frenchmen quickly 
changed the appearance of the fight. Two horsemen fell dead from pistol-shots 
fired by the young men ; while a third, knocked down by Don Gregorio, was 
silently strangled by Caesar. The other two thought it high time to decamp, 
leaving their fair prisoner behind them. She had fainted ; and Don Tadeo, 
leaning against the wall of a house, was upon the point of following her 
example. Valentine secured the horses of the bandits killed in the skirmish. 

“ Quick, gentlemen ! to the saddle ! ” Valentine said to the Chilians. 

Louis had already dismounted, and was attending to the young lady. 

“ Do not leave us,” Don Gregorio remarked. 

Fear nothing ! ” said Valentine ; “ we are quite at your service.” 

“ Many thanks ! A little assistance, if you please, to place my friend, who 
is wounded, on horseback.” 

Once in the saddle, Don Tadeo declared he felt sufficiently strong to keep 
his seat without help. Don Gregorio placed the still inanimate young lady before 
him. 

“ Now, gentlemen,” he said, “ nothing remains for me but to thank you most 
cordially, if your business will not allow you to remain longer with us.” 

“ i beg to repeat, cabalieros, that we are at your service.” 

i$ We have no pressing demand upon our time,” Louis said, with animation. 

“ Follow me, then,” said Don Gregorio, with a bow ; and do not spare the 
horses ; it is ,ta affair of life and death.” 

And the foi,r horsemen set off as fast as their horses could bear them. 

“ Eh 1 eh V 1 said Valentine. “ Here is an adventure that promises something, 
\Ve are losing no time at Santiago l What think you? ” 

“ We shr.U see 1 ” Louis replied. 


General Bustamente . 


33 


No light had gleamed out, no window had been opened during the combat. 
The streets remained silent and gloomy ; the city seemed abandoned. Nothing 
was to be heard but the clatter of the horses’ feet upon the rough pavement of 
the streets. The cathedral clock struck two as they passed across the Plaza 
Mayor. 


CHAPTER XI. 


GENERAL BUSTAMENTE. 


Don Tadeo was right, when, on seeing General Bestamente pass, he said htf 
was on his way to visit his mistress. It was, in fact, to the residence of the 
linda the general was going. On arriving at the gate one of his men 
dismounted and knocked. But no one answered ; and at a sign from the 
general the soldier knocked louder. But still all remained silent ; there was 
no movement witi.in. He began to be uneasy. 

“ Oh ! oh ! ” the general said, “ what is going on here ? Knock again, Diego, 
and knock in a way to make yourself heard.” 

The soldier knocked with all his strength, but still uselessly. 

“ Break open the door 1 ” cried Don Pancho. 

The order was instantly obeyed; and the general, followed by his escort, 
entered the house. 

“ Be prudent,” said the general in a low voice; “ place sentinels everywhere, 
and keep a sharp look-out.” 

After giving these orders, the general took his pistols from his holsters, and, 
followed by some of his lancers, entered the house. After passing through 
several apartments, he arrived at a door, which, being a little ajar ; allowed a 
stream of light to pass. From the other side of this door proceeded something 
like stifled groans. With a kick of his foot one of the lancers forced open the 
door ; the general entered, and a strange spectacle presented itself to his 
astonished eyes ! Dona Maria, tightly bound and gagged, was fastened to the 
foot of a damasked bed, saturated with blood. The furniture was broken and 
disordered, whilst two dead bodies, lying in a pool of blood, made it evident 
that the room had been the scene of a desperate conflict. 

The general ordered the dead bodies to be removed, and then desired to be 
left alone with the lady. She was senseless. 

On turning round to place the pistols he had retained on the table, he drew 
back with astonishment, and almost terror, as he perceived the dagger standing 
erect in the middle of it. He went quickly up to the table, seized the dagger, 
which he carefully drew out, and eagerly took up the paper it had pinned 
down. 


“ The tyrant Don Pancho Bustamente is cited at the expiration of ninety-three 


days ! 


“The Dark Hearts.” 


He read this in a loud, harsh tone, and then crushed the paper violently in his 
hand. “ Sangros de Dios ! Will these demons always make a mock of me ? 
Oh 1 they know that I show no mercy, and that those who fall into my 
hands ” 

“ Escape I ” said a hollow voice, which made him start involuntarily. 

He turned sharply round, and beheld the linda, with her vicious eye fixed 
Upon him with a demoniacal expression. He sprang towards her. 


3 * 


The Adventurers. 


“ Thank God ! ” he cried warmly, “ you are restored to your senses. Are you 
sufficiently recovered to explain ?” 

“ A terrible seen'', Don 1 ancho ! ” she replied, in a tremulous voice ; “ a scene, 
the bare remembrance of which still freezes me with terror." 

“ Are you strong enough to describe it to me?" 

“ I hope so," she replied. “ Listen to me attentively, Don Pancho, for what 
I have to tell concerns you, perhaps, more than me." 

"You mean this insolent summons, I suppose ? ” 

She glanced over it, and replied — 

" I did not even know that such a paper had been addressed to you. But 
listen to me attentively." 

" In the first place, have the goodness to explain to me what you just now 
said.” 

" I will not fail to explain everything, for the vengeance I thirst for must be 
complete." 

" Oh ! ” he said, a flash of hatred gleaming from his eye, “ set your heart at 
ease on that head.” 

The linda related to the general what had passed between her and Don 
Tadeo in the fullest details — how the Dark Hearts had snatched him from her 
hands, and the threats they had addressed to her on leaving her. She said 
that her husband, attracted by the hope of avenging himself upon her, whom 
he suspected of being no stranger to his condemnation, had introduced himself 
unseen into her house, where by a strange chance she happened to be alone. 

The general had not for an instant the idea of doub.ing the veracity of his 
mistress* The situation in which he had found her — the incredible news of the 
resurrection of his most implacable enemy, altogether so confused his thoughts 
that suspicion had no time to enter his mind. He strode about the room with 
hasty steps, revolving in his head the most extravagant projects for seizing 
Don Tadeo, and, above all, for annihilating the Dark Hearts — those never-to- 
be-caught Proteuses, who so incessantly crossed his path, thwarted all his 
plans, and always escaped him. The recital made by his mistress had 
produced the effect of a thunder-clap upon him : he knew not what measures to 
employ in order to counteract the numerous p ots in action against him on all 
sides simultaneously. The linda did not take her eyes off him for a moment, 
but watched upon his countenance the various feelings aroused by what she had 
told him. 

General Don Pancho Bustamente, who has left in Chili a reputation for 
cruelty so terrible that he is generally called the executioner, was a man of 
thirty-five, although he looked about fifty, a little above the middle height, well 
made, and of great corporeal strength. His features were tolerably regular, 
but his prominent forehead, his grey eyes deeply set beneath the brows, and 
close to his hook nose, his large mouth and high cheek bones, gave him some- 
thing of a resemblance to a bird of prey. His chin was square, an indication 
of obstinacy ; his hair and moustache, beginning to be streaked with grey, 
were trained and cut in military fashion. He wore the magnificent uniform, 
covered at every seam with gold embroidery, of a general officer. 

Don Bustamente was the son of his own works, which were in his 
favour. 

At the moment we bring him on the scene he found himself in one of the 
most critical circumstances of his career. He had in vain shot the patriots en 
masse — conspiracies, as always happens in such cases, succeeded each other 
without interruption, and the system of terror which he had inaugurated, far 
from intimidating the population, appeared, on the contrary, t© urge t&een m 


General Bustamente. 


35 


to revolt. Secret societies were formed, and one of these, the most powerful 
and the most terrible, that of the Dark Hearts, enveloped him in invisible nets 
in which he struggled in vain. After a rather long silence, the general placed 
himself by the side of the linda. 

“ V r o will be avenged 1 ” he said in a deep tone ; “ but be patient.” 

%< Oh ! ” she replied, bitterly, “ my vengeance has commenced.” 

“ What do you mean by that ? ” 

“ 1 have caused Dona Rosario del Valle, the woman Don Tadeo de Leon loves 
so passionately, to be carried off.” 

“You have done that?" said the general. 

“ Yes, and in ten minutes she will be here.” 

“ Oh ! oh ! ” he exclaimed ; “ and do you mean to keep her here with you ? ” 

“ With me ; ” she cried ; “ no, I thank you. general. I will make a present of 
her to the Pehuenchos.” 

“Oh!” Don Fane 1 o muttered, “women w 11 be always our masters! they 
alone know how to avenge themselves. But have you no fear lest the man to 
wh( m you have confided this mission should betray you ?” 

She smiled with terrible irony. 

“ No,” she said ; “ that man hates Don Tadeo more than I do.” 

At the same instant steps were heard in the chamber preceding the room. 

“You will see, general — here is my emissary. Come in ! ” the linda cried. 

A man appeared ; his face was pale and haggard ; and his clothes stained in 
various places with blood. 

“ Well 1 ” she exclaimed, in a tone of intense anxiety. 

“All has failed,” answered the man. 

“What! ” the linda shouted, with a cry like that of a wild beast. 

“ There were five of us,” the man continued, quite unmoved, “ and we carried 
off the senorita. All went on well till within a short distance from this house, 
when we were attacked by four demons.” 

“ And you did i.ot defend yourselves, miserable cowards? ” interrupted the 
general violently. 

The bandit gave him a cold look, and continued impassively — 

“ Three of our number are dead, and the leader and myself wounded.” 

“And the girl ?” the linda asked, passionately. 

“ The girl was captured by our opponents. The Englishman has sent me to 
you to learn if you still wish him to carry off Dona Rosario ? ” 

“ Would he attempt it again ? ” 

“ Yes. And this time, he says, he is certain to succeed if the conditions are 
the same.” 

A smile of contempt played round the lips of the courtesan. 

“ Repeat to him this,” she replied, “ not only shall he receive the hundred 
ounces if he succeeds, but, still further, he shall have a hundred more; and 
that he may be in no doubt of my promise,” she added, rising and taking 
from a drawer a rather heavy bag, “ give him this; there is half of the sum, 
but bid him despatch.” 

The man bowed. 

“ As to you, Juanito,” she continued, “ as soon as you have acquitted yourself 
of this mission, return." 

The bandit disappeared instantly. 

“ Who is that man ? ” the general asked. 

“ A poor devil whom I saved some years ago.” 

*• Hum 1 ” said the general, “ he has rather too cunning an eye not to be A 

togue.” 


.0 


The Adventurers 


The linda shrugged her shoulders. 

“ You are mistrustful of everybody,” she said. 

“ That is the way not to be deceived.” 

“ Or to be deceived the more easily.” 

“ Perhaps so. Well, you see this abduction, so admirably planned, has 
failed.” 

“ I can only repeat what you yourself said to me just now.” 

“ What is that ? ” 

“ Patience ! But, pray, what are your present nlans ? ” 

“ Whilst you are carrying on against our enemies,” said the general, in a low, 
stern voice, “ a guerilla warfare of ambuscades and treacheries, I, on my part, 
will wage an open war against them — a war in the face of the sun. Their 
blood shall flow in streams over all the territories of the Republic. The Dark 
Hearts have summoned me in ninety-three days. Well, I take up the 
gauntlet.” 

“ That is well ! ” the linda replied. “ And now let us arrange our plans. 
We must come to an end with these miserable plotters, and take proper 
revenge.” 

“ It shall be a vengeance ! I will stake my head on the game. Oh,” he 
added, “ I hold them. I have found the means I sought to make them all fall 
into my hands.” 

And, having saluted the linda with the greatest courtesy, the general 
retired. 

“ I leave you a few soldiers to watch over your safety till the return of your 
servants,” he said. 

“ Thank you, thank you,” she replied. 

The linda, when left alone, instead of seeking the repose so necessary after 
the excitement of the night, remained plunged in deep thought. Suddenly she 
sprang up, and passing her hand rapidly over her brow, as if to efface its 
wrinkles, she cried, in a tone of triumph — 

“ And I, too, will succeed 1 ” 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE SPY. 

When the yourg lady was delivered, the four men set off as fast as they could 
go. In ten minutes they were out of the city, and with the change of the road 
their speed increased. 

“ Eh, eh ! ” Valentine said, laughing, to his foster-brother; “ we seem to be 
playing at prisoners’ base. We enter the city by one gate, to leave it imme. 
diately by another. 

With the exception of these few words, to which Louis only replied bv a 
shrug of the shoulders, no other conversation took place during the hour 
which their rapid journey lasted. By the pale light of the moon the trees on 
each side of the road seemed to defile l.ke a legion of melancholy phantoms. 
Ere long the white walls of a farmhouse stood out upon the horizon. 

“ Here we are,” said Don Gregorio. 

They reached the house in a few minutes. The gate was open, but a man 
Was standing evidently on the watch. The fugitives dashed like a hurricane 
into the patio, and the gates were immediately closed behind them. 


l'/ic S t y. 


3 ; 


“ What has happened, Tio Pepito?”Don Gregorio asked of the man wh< 
appeared to have expected him. 

“ Nothing, mi amo, nothing of consequence,” replied Tio Pepito, a littU 
thick-set man with a round face, lit up by two sparkling grey eyes. 

“ Have not the persons I expected arrived ? ” 

“ Pardon me, mi amo. They have been at the chacra more than an hour.” 

“ That’s well. Announce my arrival, and tell them 1 shall be at their service 
in two minutes.” 

The mayoral, for this man was the major-domo of the chacra, entered the 
house without reply. Don Tadeo, also, who seemed to know perfectly well 
where he was, disappeared, bearing the young girl in his arms. The two 
Frenchmen were left alone with the chacrero. 

“ Now that you are, for the present at least, in safety, sir,” said Valentine, 
“ we have only to take our leave.” 

“ Not so ! ” Don Gregorio exclaimed; “it must not be so. Diable ! ”he 
added, smiling; “ chance does not so often procure us such friends as you, 
to allow us to part with you thus when we have met you. You will remain 
here, if you please.’’ 

“ If our continuing here can be of any service to you,” Louis replied, “ we 
are at your command.” 

“ Thank you,” he said, and pressing their hands warmly ; “ I shall never 
forget that I owe to you the lives of myself and my friend. Can I be of any 
service to you ? ” 

“ Well,” Valentine said, laughing, “ it may happen so, caballero.” 

“ Explain yourself,” Don Gregorio replied. 

“ Dame ! it is clear enough ; we are strangers.” 

“ When did you arrive ? ” the Chilian said, examining them attentively. 

“ Faith ! very recently. You are the first persons we have spoken to.” 

'* That is well,” Gregorio said, slowly. “ I told you that I was at your 
service, did I not ? ” 

“ Yes, and we sincerely thank you ; although we hope never to be obliged to 
remind you of this offer.” 

“ I perfectly appreciate your delicacy ; but a service like the one you have 
rendered me and my friend is an eternal bond. Take no heed of your future 
fortune.” 

“ Pardon me, pardon me 1 ” said Valentine, earnestly ; “ we do not under- 
stand one another at all ; you mistake us. We are not the men who expect to 
be paid for having acted as our hearts dictated. You owe us nothing.” 

“ I do not propose or pretend to pay you, gentlemen. I only wish, in order 
to attach you to me, to propose to you to share my good or evil fortune.” 

“ In that case we at once accede,” said Louis, “ and will endeavour to prove 
Ourselves worthy.” 

“ I have no doubt you will. Only I beg you not to be misled ; the life I am 
leading is fuil of perils.” 

“ I can suppose that,” said Valentine, with a laugh. “ The scene at which we 
have been present makes it pretty evident that your existence is not one of the 
must peac ful nature.” 

“ Do you know nobody in this country?” 

“ Nobody.” 

“ Your political opinions, then, are unformed.” 

i: As regards Chili, completely.” 

“ Bravo ! ” Don Gregorio exclaimed if we agree on that point our compact 
will be for life and death.” 


38 


The Adventurers . 


“We do agree,” said Valentine, laughing; “and if you conspire " 

“ Well ? ” the Chilian asked, fixing an inquiring look upon him. 
u Why, we will conspire, too, pardieu 1 ” 

The three men exchanged a cordial pressure of the hand, and then Don 
Gregorio called the major-domo to conduct them to their chamber. 

“ Good night! or rather good morning ! ” he said, on quitting them. 

“ Come,” said Valentine, rubbing h s hands, “ matters are going on well.” 

“ Hum 1 ” Louis replied, with a tone of something like uneasiness ; “con- 
spire ! ” 

“ And what better?” said Valentine. “ Remember, my friend, that the best 
fishing is n troubled waters.” 

“ In that case,” Louis remarked, taking up the gay humour o£ his companion, 

“ if my presentiments are just, ours will be miraculous.” 

“ I expect so,” said Valentine, firmly. 

The chamber in which the young men found themselves was whitewashed, 
and entirely destitute of furniture, with the exception or two oak frames fur- 
nished with dressed hides, which served as beds, a massive table with twisted 
feet, and four seats. 

“ Eh 1 ” said Louis, “ our friends, the Cnilians, do not seem to consult comfort 
much.” 

“ Bah ! ” Valentine replied, “ we have all that we require. A man can sleep 
soundly anywhere when he is fatigued.” 

“ You are right. Let us take a little rest then, for we don’t know what 
to-morrow has in reserve for us.” 

In a quarter of an hour they were both fast asleep. At the moment the 
Frenchmen went into the house with the major-domo, Don Tadeo came out by 
another door. 

“ Well ? ” Don Gregorio asked, anxiously. 

“ She is asleep. Her terror has abated,” Don Tadeo replied. “ The joy she 
experienced at seeing me, whom she believed dead, brought about a very 
salutary crisis.” 

“ I am glad to hear it. In that quarter, then, we may be at ease ?” 

“ Completely.” 

“ Do you fed yourself strong enough to be present at an important inter- 
view ? ” 

“ Is it necessary that I should be present ? ” 

“ I think it quite right that you should hear the communications of my 
emissaries.” 

“ It is very imprudent of you,” said Don Tadeo, “ to receive such a man in 
your own house 1 ” 

“ Oh ! do not alarm yourself ! I have known him for a long time. Besides, 
he is not aware whose house he is in ; he was brought hither blind-folded.” 

“ Well ! since you desire it, I am at your commands.” 

Ti.e two friends, after having covered their faces with black velvet masks, 
entered the apartment in which were the persons who waited for them. This 
apartment, which served as a dining-room, was very large, and furnished with 
a ve;y long table. Three men, wrapped in variegated ponchos, and wit. 
broad-brimmed hats pulled down over their eyes, were carelessly smoking thci 
slender papelitos, whilst warming themselves round a copper brasero. 

“ Why,” asked Don Tadeo, who at the first glance recognised the emissary, 
“why did you not wait, Don Pedro, for the meeting to-morrow at the Quinta 
Verde,” 

The man thus named as Don Pedro bowed respectfully. He was an 


The £py. 


39 


individual of about thirtv years of age. He was tall, and his countenance, ?s 
sharp as a blade of a knife, wore a cunning, roguish expression. 

“ What I have to state only indirect y concerns the Dark Hearts,” he said. 

“ Then, of what importance is it to us?” Don Gregorio interrupted him. 

{i fiu t it greatly concerns the leaders, particularly the King of Darkness.” 

“ Explain yourself, then, for he is before you,” Don Tadeo remarked, taking a 
step forward. 

Pedro darted a look at him which seemed to endeavour to penetrate through 
the tissue of his mask. 

“ What I have to say will be brief,” he replied. “ General Don Bustamente 
will be present at the meeting to-morrow.” 

“ Are you sure of that ? ” the two conspirators exclaimed 

“ I persuaded him to do so.” 

“Are you ignorant, then,” Don Tadeo exclaimed with great warmth, “in 
what manner we punish traitors ?” 

“ I am no traitor ; on the contrary, I deliver into your hands your most 
implacable enemy.” 

Don Tadeo replied only by a suspicious glance. 

“ The general then is ignorant ? ” 

“ Of everything,” said Don Pedro. 

“ With what purpose, then, does he wish to introduce himself among us? ” 

“ Can you not guess ? For that of obtaining your secret.” 

“ But he r ; sks his life.” 

" Do you forget that every adept must be introduced by a sponsor, who 
alone knows him ? No one sees his face. Well, I introduce him,” he added. 

“ That is true. But if he should suspect you ? ” 

“ I must undergo the consequences ; but he will not suspect me ? ” 

“ Why not ? ” Don Gregorio asked. 

“ Because,” the spy replied, “ for ten years the general has employed me, 
and during those ten years he has had only cause to praise me.” 

A momentary silence followed. 

“ Here ! ” said Don Gregorio, “ this time it is not ten ounces, but twenty, 
that you have earned.” 

And he placed a heavy purse in his hands. The spy seized it with a gesture 
of avidity, and concealed it quickly under his poncho. 

“ You shall have no reproach to make me.” 

“ I hope we shall not,” said Don Tadeo. “ Only remember, we should be 
merciless.” 

“ I know it.” 

“ In that case, farewell.” 

“ Farewell till to-morrow.” 

The men who had brought him, and who during the conversation had 
remained motionless, at a sign from Don Gregorio approached the spy, 
bandaged his eyes again, and led him away. 

“ Is that fellow a traitor ?” asked Don Gregorio. 

“ It is our duty to suppose him one,” the King of Darkness replied gravely. 

The two friends, instead of seeking the repose which must have been so 
necessary to them, talked together for a loog time. In the meantime Don 
Pedro had been quickly led back to Santiago. On arriving at one of the gates, 
his guides left him. As soon as he was alone, he removed the handkerchief 
from his eyes. 

*' Hum 1 ” he said, with a bitter smile, as he tossed up in his right hand the 
purse Don Gregorio had given him. “ Twenty ounces make a purse of gonl. 


40 


1 '// e Ad vet, Inter ft' 


Now let us see if General Bustamente is as liberal as his enemies. By the 
Viipin 1 the news I carry him are worth something to him.” 

After having cast his eyes around to see if the coast was clear, he set off at 
a sharp trot towards the government palace, muttering to himself — 

“ Bah 1 times are hard. If a man did not manoeuvre a little, he would find 
no means of bringing up his family honestly. 


CHAPTER XIU, 

LOVE. 

On the morrow the two Frenchmen, perfectly recovered from their fatigue, 
sprang cheerfully from their humble beds, and dressed themselves in haste. 

The chacra, of which they had only a glimpse the night before by moon- 
light, was an immense farm, consisting of extensive buildings, and surrounded 
by fields in full cultivation. The greatest animation prevailed everywhere. 
Peons, mounted on half-wild horses, were driving out the cattle to the artificial 
meadows, whilst others were running about after the horses they were getting 
together, in order to lead them to the drinking-place. In the patio the major- 
domo was overlooking the women and girls engaged in milking. In short, this 
residence, which had appeared to them so silent and dismal the night before, 
assumed by daylight an appearance of life and cheerfulness delightful to 
contemplate. 

The cries of the peons mingled with the lowing of the cattle, the barking of 
the dogs, and the crowing of the cocks, had formed that melodious concert 
which is only to be heard on a farm, and which always rejoices the heart. 

Behind the chacra extended a well kept-up garden, in which oranges, pome- 
granates, and citrons, planted in the open ground, grew amidst limes, app’es, plums, 
and all the other fruits of Europe. Louis was agreeably surprised at the aspect of 
this garden. Whilst Valentine went, followed by Caesar, to look at the operations of 
the peons and smoke his cigar in the patio, Louis felt himself led by his dreamy 
spirit to indulge in poetical reveries, and to seek a few minutes’ solitude in this Eden. 

Urged by an unknown power, intoxicated by the sweet odours which embalmed 
the atmosphere, he glided into the garden. 

The young man went dreaming along the garden walks, mechanically pulling to 
pieces with his fingers a rose which he had gathered. He had walked thus for 
nearly an hour, when he was roused by a slight noise among the leaves at a short 
distance from him. He instinctively raised his head, just in tin e to catch a glimpse 
of a light white robe which was disappeaiing among the trees. At the sight of thi 
mysterious appe^d^n the young man felt his heart bound in his breast ; he stoppei 
trembling. 

“ What can be the matter with me ? ” he murmured to himself. “ I am mad 1 ” 
he continued, with a forced smile. *‘ I think 1 see her everywhere. Heavens 1 I love 
her so deeply that, in spite of myself, my imagination brings her before me unceas- 
ingly. r l hat girl, of whom I just caught a glimpse, is probab'y the same we last 
night so miraculously saved. Poor child 1 Fortunately she did not see me ; I should 
have frightened her.” 

And, as always happens in such cases, he set off, on the contrary, in the very foot- 
steps of her he had only caught a glimpse of, but whom he had nevertheless recog- 
nised. 


J^ove. 


41 


The young girl, reclining in the depths of an arbour, like a humming-bird in its 
bed of moss, with a pale face, and her eyes cast down to the earth, wa* listening, 
pensive and sad, to the joyous melodies which the birds chanted in her absent ear. 
All at once, a slight noise made her start and raise her head. 

“ Don Lou s ! ” she exclaimed. 

She hod recognised him. The young man sank on his knees at the entrance of 
the arbour. 

“Oh l’’ he cried, in a voice trembling with emotion; “for pity’s sake, remain, 
madam 1 ” 

“ Don Louis ! ” she repeated, already recovered, and feigning the most perfect 
indifference. Young gills, even the purest, possess in a high degree the talent of 
concealing their feelings. 

“ Yes, it is I, madam,” he continued ; “ I, who, to see you again, have abandoned 
everything ! ” 

The young lady displayed some slight surprise. 

“ For Heaven’s sake ! ” he resumed, “ allow me once more, if but for an instant, 
to contemplate your adored features ! Oh ! ” he added, “ my heart had told me 
you were here before my eyes perceived you.” 

“ Caballero,” she said, in a tremulous voice, “ I do not understand you.” 

“ Oh, fear nothing from me, madam 1 ” he interrupted her vehemently ; u my 
respect for you is profound.” 

“ Pray, caballero,’ ’ she said, earnestly, “rise; if any one should surprise you 
thus ! ’’ 

“ Madam,” he replied, “ the avowal I have to make to you requires me to remain 
in the position of a suppliant 1 ” 

“Oh, caballero ! ” 

“ I love you, madam ! ” he said, in broken accents ; “ I know not what gives me 
the boldness to pronounce a word which in France I did not venture to breathe in 
your ear. Even if you banished me from your presence for ever, once again I must 
tell you that I love you, and if you do not return my love I shall die 1 ” 

The maiden 1< oked at him for a moment with a melancholy air; she took a step 
towards him, and held out her hand, upon which he imprinted a burning kiss. 

“ Rise ! ” she said. 

The count obeyed. Dona Rosario sunk back upon the bench behind her. 

“Caballero,” she sahi, in a melancholy tone, “ if God has permitted us to meet 
once again, it is because, in His divine goodness, He has judged that a decisive 
explanation should take p ace between us.” 

The young man appeared anxious to speak. 

“ Do not interrupt me,” she continued, “ or I shall not have the courage to finish 
what I have to say to you. You love me, and yet how many times, during my 
short residence in France, have you cursed me in secret, accusing me of coquetry, or, 
at least, of uinccountable levity 1” 

“ Madam l ” 

“ Oh 1 ” she said, with a faint smile, “since you have avowed your love forme, 1 
will be frank with you, Louis; and although it may be my duty to depiive you of 
ail future hope, I am at least anxious to justify the past.” 

“ Oh, madam ! why do you repeat such things to me? ” 

“ Why ? ” she said, with a look full of melancholy, “because 1 have faith in that 
love, so warm, so young, so true — because, in short, I also love you 1 ” 

On hearing this confession, so ingenuous, and made in a tone so sorrowful that 
the young girl appeared no longer to belong to earth, the count telt struck by a ter- 
rible presentiment. Trembling, bewildered, he gazed on her with the fixed and des- 
perate eye of one condemned to death. 


4 * 


Adventurer j. 


“Yes!” she' resumed, with feverish eagerness; “yes, .1 love you; but never, 
never can we be united.” 

“ Oh, that is impossible ! ” he cried. 

“ Listen to me,” she said. “ I do not order you to forget me, Louis ; a love like 
yours is eternal. Alas ! I feel that mine will last as long as my life. But this love, 
which would be for us the height of felicity — blend with each other to form one bhss- 
full whole — this boundless happiness must be dispersed for ever.” 

“ Oh, I cannot consent! ” he exclaimed, in a voice broken by sobs. 

“ But it must be so ! ” she continued, wild with anguish. “ Great Heaven ! what 
more do you require of me? Must I confess everything to you ? Well, then, since 
it must be so, know that 1 am a miserable creature, condemned from my birth, pur- 
sued by a terrible hatred, which follows me step by step, which watches me inces- 
santly, and some day — to-morrow, perhaps to-day — will crush me without meicy I ” 

“ But I will defend you 1 ” the young man said. 

“ And I, on my pait, am not willing that you should die!” she replied. “To 
attach yourself to me is to court destruction. I went to France to seek refuge. I was 
obliged to quit that hospitable land. Arrived here only a few we.ks since, but for 
you, last night, I should have been lost. No no, 1 am condemned; I know 1 am, 
and I am resigned ; but I will not drag you down in my fall. Alas ! I am, 
perhaps, doomed to suffer tortures still more horrible than those I have hithe*to 
cnduie 1.” 

At this moment Valentine’s voice was heard at a short distance, and Caesar 
came wagging his tail to his master. Dona Rosario gathered a blossom ot the 
suchil. 

“Here,” she said, “my friend accept this flower, the only memorial that will 
remain with you of me.” 

The young man concealed the flower in his bosom. 

“Some one is coming,” she continued. “Swear Louis! swear to quit this 
country as soon as possible.” 

The count hesitated. 

“Oh ! ” he cried, “ some day, perhaps ” 

“Never on earth. Have I not told you that I am condemned ? Swear, Louis ! ” 

She pronounced these words with such a tone of despair that the young man 
was overcome. 

“ I swear to do so?” he said. 

“ Thanks ! thanks ! ” she cried wildly, and hurriedly imprinting a kiss upon the 
brow of her prostrated lover, she disappeared with the lightness of a fawn. 

“Why, brother,” said Valentine gaily, “what the deuce are you about here, 
at the bottom of the garden ? Breakfast is waiting for you.” 

The count turned towards him, his face bathed in tears, and threw his arms 
round his neck. 

“ Brother ! brother ! ” he cried, in an accent of despair, I am the most unhappy 
of men ! ” 

Valentine looked at him in astonishment. The count had fainted. 

“ What on earth is all this about ?” said the soldier, laying his foster*brothe? 
gently upon a grassy bank. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE QUINTA VERDB. 

Not far from Rio Claro. a charming lithe city, built in a delicious situation between 
Santiago and Talca, there was upon a hill commanding an extensive view a pretty 
quinta, with white walls a’ green shutters, coquettishly concealed from indiscreet 
eyes by a tb : cket of trees 01 vaiious setts — oaks, acaj us, maples, palms, aloes 
cactus, &c„ .. uch sprang up and entertwined within each other in such a fashion 
around it a® to form an almost imp* equable rampart. This habitation was named 
the Quinta Verde. 

By what prodigy had this house, so simple in appearance and so like the 
rest, avoided the common fate, and remained alone, perhaps, of all the houses 
of the Chilian plains, calm and tranquil in the midst of general confusion, 
equally respected by the two parties contending for power, and surveying care- 
lessly from the top of its pretty mirador the revolution raging at its feet, which 
carried aw ( . j, as in an infernal whirlwind, cities, villages, houses, fortunes, and 
families ? 

The day after that on which the events occurred which open this history the 
heat had been oppressive, the atmosphere heavy, and the sun had gone down 
amidst a flood of purple vapour, the precursors of a storm w. ich burst with fury 
as soon as night had completely closed in. The wind bent down the trees as it 
whistled through them, the collision of the branches producing a melancholy 
sound ; the heavens were b'ack, not a star was to be seen ; and large grey 
cloud", coursed rapidly across the zenith, covering all nature with a leaden pall. 

Nine o'clock struck slowly from a distant steeple. The moon, fitfully emerg- 
ing from behind the clouds which veiled her, spread for a few seconds a pale 
and trembling light over the scene, giving it a fantastic aspect. This fugitive 
ray of doub ful light, nevertheless, enabled a small troop of horsemen, who were 
painfully ascending a winding path on the side of a mountain, to distinguish, at 
a few paces before them, the black outline of a house, from the top window of 
which beamed like a pharos a red, uncertain light. This house was the 
Quinta Verde. 

At about four or five paces in advance of the troop rode two horsemen, 
muffled carefully in their cloaks; the flaps of their hats pulled down over their 
eyes appeared in the darkness to be a needless precaution. 

“ Heaven be praised ! ” said one of these horsemen to his companion, “ I 
hope we shall soon be there." 

“ In a quarter of an hour, at latest, general.” 

“ Do not let us stop, then,” the one addressed as general said ; “ I am 
impatient to penetrate into this abominable den.” 

“ One moment, general,” the first speaker continued. “ It is my duty to warn 
your excellency that there is still time to retreat.” 

“ Please to observe this, Diego,” said the general, “ in the circumstances in 
which I am placed, prudence, as you understand the word, would be cowardice. 

I am quite aware what I am called upon to do by the confidence placed in me 
by myfellow-citizens ; our position is most critical. The news of Don Tadeo’s 
escape from deatn has spread with the rapidity of a train of gunpowder ; all 
the malcontents of whom he is the leader are in almost open action ; if I were 
to hesitate to stride a great blow, it would to-morrow, perhaps, be too late.” 


44 


The A venturers* 


4 And yet, general, if the man who has furnished you with this information 
should ” 

“ Be a traitor? Well, that is possil/e — ay, even probable ; therefore, I have 
i eglected nothing that may neutralise the consequences of treachery.” 

“ By the Virgin, general, in your place, however ” 

“ Thank you, old comrade, thank you tor your solicitude ; but enough of this 
subject.” 

“ I have nothing more to do, then, but to wish your excellency well through 
your undertaking, for you know you must arrive alone at the Quinta Verde.” 

“ Very well, wait here then ; make your men dismount for a time, and keep 
a sharp watch.” 

Diego bowed respectfully, but with an air of anxiety, and withdrew his hand, 
which had been plrced on the bridle of the general’s horse. The latter more 
carefully enveloped himself in his cloak, the folds of which had become too 
loose, and gave the usual jockey signal to excise his horse. 

After a few minutes the general stopped ; but it appeared as if his journey 
was completed, for, dismounting, he threw the bridle on his horse’s neck, with 
as little care what became of it as if it had been a hack post-horse, and walked 
with a firm step towards the house, and from which he was not now more than 
ten paces distant. When he reached the gate, he stood for a second and looked 
around him, as if endeavouring to penetrate the darkness. In spite of himself 
the general was seized with that vague fear which takes possession of the most 
courageous man when in face of the unknown. 

“ What the devil ! am I afraid ? ” he murmured, with an ironical smile, and 
going boldly up to the gate he knocked three times at equal intervals. In an 
instant his arms were seized by invisible hands, a bandage was placed over his 
eyes, and a voice murmured in his ear — 

“ Make no resistance, twenty poniards are at your breast ; at the first cry, 
at the least opposition, you are a dead man. Reply categorically to our 
questions.” 

“ All these threats are needless,” the general replied in a calm voice; “as I 
came here of my own free will, I can have no intention of resisting.” 

“ What do you come to seek here ? ” the voice said. 

“ The Dark Hearts.” 

“ Are you ready to appear in their presence? ” 

“ I am,” the general replied, still impassive. 

“ Do you dread nothing r ” 

“ Nothing.” 

“ Let your sword fall.” 

The general quitted his hold of his sword. 

“ Now, step forward without fear,” said the voice. 

The prisoner found himself instantly at liberty. 

“ In the name of Christ, wno died upon the cross for the salvat : on of the 
world, Dark Hearts, rec ive me among the number of your brethren,” the 
general then said, in a low and firm voice. 

The double gates of the Quinta Verde flew open before him, and two masked 
:nen, each holding a dark lantern in his hand, the focus of which he directed on 
the stranger’s face, appeared in the entrance. 

“ There is still time,” said one of the unknown; “ if your heart be not firm 
you may retreat.” 

“ My heart is firm.” 

“Come on, then, as you think yourself worthy to share our glorious task.’ 
said the masked man, in a deep, sonorous voice. 


45 


The Quinta Verac. 


The general felt a cold shudder run through his limbs; but he quickly sur. 
mounted this involuntary emotion. 

“ It is for traitors to tremble,” he replied; “for my part I have nothing to 
fear.” 

And he boldly stepped into the Quinta Verde, the doors of which closed after 
him with a dull, heavy sound. The bandage which covered his eyes, and which 
had prevented those who had interrogated him from recognising him, notwith- 
standing their efforts to do so, was then removed. After proceeding for more 
than a quarter of an hour along a circular corridor, lig ted only by the red 
flickering flame of the torch carried by the guide through this labyrinth, the 
general was suddenly stopped by a door in front of him. He turned hesitatingly 
towards the masked men, who had followed him step by step 

“ What do you wait for ? ” said one. “ Knock, and it shall be opened unto 
you.” 

The general bowed in sign of acquiescence, and knocked loudly at the door. 
The folding panels drew back silently into the wall, and the general found him- 
self at the entrance of a vast hall, whose walls were covered with long red 
draperies, gloomily lighted by a bronze lamp and several chandeliers suspended 
from the ceiling, which shone in an uncertain manner upon the countenances of 
about a hundred men, who, with naked swords in their hands, fixed their eyes 
upon him throu -h the black masks which concealed their faces. At the bottom of 
this hall was a table covered with a green cloth, at which were seated three 
masked men. As a further precaution, before each of them a lighted torch was 
planted on the table, the dazzling flame of which allowed them to be birf 
vaguely seen. 

The general manifested no emotion at this imposing mise en scene. A smile 
of disdain curled his lip, and he stepped boldly forward. At this moment he 
felt a light touch on the shoulder, and, on turning round, perceived that one of 
the guides was holding out a mask to him. In spite of the precautions he had 
taken to disguise his features, he eagerly seized it and placed it on his face. 

“ In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti ! ” he said. 

“ Amen,” all present replied, in a sepulchral tone. 

“ Exaudiat te Dominus, in die Tribulationis,” said one. 

“ Impleat Dominus omnes petitiones tuas,” the general replied, without 
hesitation. 

“La patria?” the first speaker rejoined. 

“ O la Muerte ! ” replied the general. 

“ What is your purpose in coming here ? ” 

“ I wish to be admitted into the bosom of the elect.” 

There was a momentary silence. 

“ Is there any one among us who can or will answer for you ? ” the masked 
-nan then asked. 

“ I cannot say ; for I do not know the persons among whom I find myself.” 

“ How do you know that ? ” 

“ I suppose so, as the •, as well as I, are masked.” 

“ The Dark Hearts,” said the interrogator, in a deep tone, “ consider not the 
countenance, “they search souls.” 

The general bowed. The interrogator continued — 

“ Do you know the conditions of your affiliation ? ” 

“ I know them.” 

“ What are they ? ” 

“ To sacrifice mother, father, brothers, relations, friends to the cause which 
1 swear to defend.” 


4 o 


The Adventurers . 


" What next ? ” 

“ At the first signal, whether it be by day or night, even at the foot of the 
altar, in whatever circumstances I may be placed, to quit everything, in ordei 
to accomplish immediately the orders that shall be given me.” 

“ Do you subscribe to these conditions?” 

“ I subscribe to them.” 

u Are you prepared to swear to submit yourself to them ?” 

“ I am prepared.” 

“ Repeat, then, after me, with your hand upon the Gospels, the words I am 
about to dictate to you.” 

“ Dictate 1 ” 

The three men behind the table rose ; a Bible was brought, and the general 
resolutely placed his hand upon the book. A slight murmur ran through the 
ranks of the assembly. The president struck the table with the hilt of his dag- 
ger, and silence was re-established. This man then repeated in a slow and 
deep-toned voice the oath, which the general pronounced after him. 

“ So far well ! ” replied the president. “ You are now our brother.” 

He then rose, and stepping across the hall, stood full in front of the general. 

“ Now,” he said, in a solemn threatening voice, “ answer me, Don Pancho 
Bustamente. As you, of your own free will, take a false oath before a hundred 
persons, do you think we should commit a crime in condemning you ? ” 

In spite of his assurance, tue general could not repress a start of terror. 

“ Remove the mask which covers this man’s face, so that every one may 
know it is he ! Ah ! general, you have entered the lion’s den.” 

The noise of a distant commotion was heard. 

“ Your soldiers are coming to your rescue,” the president resumed, “ but they 
will come too late, general ; prepare to die.” 

These words fell like the blow of a mace upon the brow of him who found 
himself thus outwitted. 

“ By what right,” he said haughtily, “ do you constitute yourselves judges and 
executioners ? ” 

“ You are one of us, and are bound by our sentence,” the president replied, 
with an ironical smile. 

“ Beware of what you are about to do, gentlemen,” the general said, in a 
haughty tone; “ rem -mber I am minister-at-war ! ” 

“ And I am King of Darkness,” the president cried, in a voice that froze the 
very blood of the general. “ Brethren, what chastisement does this man 
dcs' rve ? ” 

“ Death I ” the conspirators replied 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE DEPARTURE. 

Sergeant Diego, when left by General Bustamente, was very uneasy regarding 
lue fate of his leader. He was an old soldier, and well acquainted with all t; 
machinations practised in this country between inveterate enemies. He had b?c 
far from approving of the general’s undertaking. Constrained, ostensiblv, to out 
the order he had received, he had resolved in petto , not to leave his order without 
help in this wasps’ nest. Liego entertained for General Bustamente, under whose 
orders he had served ten years, a profound regard. He immediately placed 
himself in relation with two other officers of the detachment, ordered like him- 


V 


/ 


The Departure. 


47 


self to watch the mysterious house. He was walking about, biting his nous 
'ache, and swearing to himself, determined if the general d’d not come out 
within haif an hour, to obtain an entrance by force, when a heavy hand was 
laid upon his shoulder. He turned sharply round, stopping short in an oath 
that was passing his lips, and saw a man standing before him. 

“ Is that you ? ” Don Pedro. 

“ Myself,” the spy rep ied. 
u But where the devil do you come from ? ” 

“ No matter ; do you wish to save the general, who is in danger of death ? n 
“ Demonios ! ” the sergeant shouted ; “ he must be saved.” 

“ For that purpose I am here; don’t speak so loud, but listen. A detachment 
must feign an attack upon the gate by which the general entered ; another will 
watch the environs, for the Dark Hearts have roads known only to themselves; 
"ou, with a third detachment, will follow me ; I will undertake to introduce you 
nto the house — is that agreed upon ? ” 

“ Perfectly.” 

“ Make haste, then, to in f orm your colleagues.” 

“ Instantly ; where shall I find you again ? ” 

“ Here.” 

“ Very well ; I only ask five minutes,” he said. 

“ Hum ! ” thought Don Pedro, as soon as he was alone ; “ we should be 
prudent when we wish affairs to be profitable.” 

“ Well ! ” he said, as he saw Diego coming towards him. 

“ Everything is done,’’ replied the sergeant. 

“ Come on, then, and God grant it may not be too late 1 ” 

Everything was done as had been arranged ; whilst one detachment vigorously 
attacked the gate of the Quinta Verde, Don Pedro led the troops commanded 
by Diego to the opposite side of the house, where a low window was open ; this 
window was grated, but several bars had been removed beforehand, which left 
the entrance easy. At the end of a few minutes they came to a closed door. 

“ This is it,” said Pedro in a low voice. 

At a sign from the sergeant the door was beaten in, and the soldiers rushed 
into the room. It was nearly empty, its only occupant being a man stretched 
motionless upon the floor. The sergeant sprang towards him — he had recog- 
nised his leader — General B istamente lay with a dagger sticking upright in his 
breast. To the hilt of the dagger was tied a long black strip, upon which were 
written these words in red ink — 

\ “ The justice of the Dark Hearts.” 

“ Oh,” cried Diego, “ vengeance ! vengeance ! ” 

“ Vengeance I ” the soldiers repeated. 

The sergeant turned round towards Pedro, whom he believed to be still by 
his side ; but the spy, who alone could guide them in their researches, had 
thought it prudent to steal away. 

“ No matter,” said Diego. “ If I demolish this den of assassins from bottom 
;> top, and don’t leave stone upon stone, I swear I will find these demons.” 

The old soldier began searching in all directions, whilst a surgeon who had 
lowed the detachment paid attention to the wounded man. 

The Dark Hearts, as the spy had truly said, had paths known only to them- 
!ves, by which they had quietly departed, after having accomplished their 
‘•rrible vengeance, or executed their severe justice, according to the point of 
■ ew in which an act of this nature and importance is viewed. 

Don Tadeo and Don Gregorio returned together to the chacra, and were 
stonished on their arrival to find Valentine, whom they supposed to be in bed 


48 


The Adventurers ■« 


and asleep long before, waiting for them at that late hour, to request a few minutes 
conversation. The conversation was long — so long that we think it useless to 
repeat it here in detail, but will satisfy our ourselves with giving our readers 
tne end of it, which sums it up perfectly. 

“ I will not insist,” said Don Tadeo, “ although you will not tell us your 
motives. I believe you to be too considerate a man, Don Valentine, not to be 
convinced that the reasons which force you to leave us are serious.” 

“ Of the greatest seriousness,” the young man replied. 

“Very well. But on leaving this place, in which direction do you intend to 
bend your steps ? ” 

“ Faith ! I own frankly that all directions are the same to us, since we must 
depend upon chance.’'' 

“ I am of your opinion,” replied Don Tadeo, smiling. “ Listen to me, then. 

I possess large estates in the province of Valdivia. What prevents you going 
that way in preference to any other ? ” 

“ Nothing, that I know of.” 

“ I at this moment stand in need of a man whom I can depend upon to 
undertake an important mission to one of the principal chiefs. If you are toing 
to the province of Valdivia you will be obliged to traverse Araucania in its 
whole length. Are you willing to undertake this commission ? ” 

“ Why should I not ? ” said Valentine. “I have never come face to face 
with savages.” 

“ Very well ; now is your opportunity. That is agreed then. You wish to 
start to-morrow.” 

“ To-morrow ! to-day, if you please — in a few hours.” 

“Very well, then ; at the moment of your departure my major-domo shall 
place, on my part, written instructions in your hands.” 

“ Caramba ! ” said Valentine, laughing; “here am I transformed into an 
ambassador.” 

“ Do not joke, my friend,” said Don Tadeo. “ The mission I confide to you 
is delicate — dangerous even. If the papers of which you will be the bearer are 
found upon you, you will be exposed to great dangers.” 

“ Pardieu ! Wherever there is danger there is pleasure. And what is the 
name of the person to whom l am to remit these despatches ? ” 

“ They are of two descriptions. The latter only concerns yourself : during 
the course of your journey you can make yourself acquainted with them ; they 
will instruct you in certain matters you should know.” 

“ I understand — and the others ? ” 

“ The others are for Tiger Sun.” 

“ A queer name that,” Valentine replied, with a laugh. “And where am I to 
find that ? ” 

“ By my faith, my friend,” replied Don Tadeo, “ I know no more than you do ” 

“ The Araucano Indians,” interrupted Don Gregorio, “ are a rather wandering 
race.” 

“ Bah 1 I shall find him, be assured of that.” 

“ We do ent rely rely upon you.” 

“ In a few hours, as I have told you, I shall myself set out to place in a con- 
vent the young lady whom you so fortunately saved. In Valdivia I shall await 
your answer.” 

“ I beg your pardon, but I have not the least idea where Valdivia is,” observed 
Valentine. 

“ Don't be uneasy on that account ; any child in this country can direct you, 
Don Gregorio rep.ied. 


The Meeting . 


49 


“ Thanks.” 

“ And now, if you change your mind when we meet again, and consent to 
remain among us, remember we are brothers.” 

“ I can neither reply yes or no, sir, *as yet.” 

After exchanging a few more words, the three men separated. At sunrise, 
Louis and Valentine, mounted on magnificent horses, which Don Tadeo had 
forced them to accept, rode away, followed by Caesar. Valentine had received 
his despatches. As they were quitting the farm Louis turned round instinc- 
tively, as if to salute with a last look a spot he abandoned for ever, and which 
contained all that was dear to him. A window was gently opened, and the face 
of the fair girl appeared through the small interval, bathed in tears. 

“ Adieu ! oh, adieu for ever ! ” murmured Louis, choking with emotion. 

“ Ah, perhaps,” said Valentine. 

Within four hours from their departure Don Tadeo and Don Gregorio like- 
wise set out on their journey to Valdivia. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE MEETING. 

As the principal incidents of this history are now about to take place in Arau« 
cania we think it necessary to give our readers some account of this people. 
The Araucanos or Moluchos inhabit the beautiful country situated between the 
rivers Biobio and Valdivia, having on one side the sea and on the other the 
Andes. They are thus completely enclosed within the Chilian republic, and yet 
have always remained independent. It would be a great error to suppose them 
savages. The Araucanos have adopted as much of European civilisation as 
suited their character and their mode of living. From the most remote times 
their people have formed a national body, strong and compact, governed by wise 
laws. The first Spanish conquerors were quite astonished to find in this remote 
corner of America a powerful aristocratic republic. 

The Carampangue — in the Araucano idiom, refuge of lions — is a charming 
stream, half torrent, half river, which comes bounding down from the inacces- 
sible summits of the Andes, and, after many capricious windings, loses itself in 
the sea two leagues to the north of Arauco. Nothing can be more beautiful 
than the banks of the Carampangue, bordered by smiling valleys, covered with 
woods, with apple-trees loaded with fruit, rich pastures in which animals of all 
kinds range and feed at liberty, and high mountains, from the verdant sides of 
which hang, in the most picturesque positions, clusters of cabins, whose white- 
washed walls shine in the sun, and give life to this enchanting landscape. 

On the day when we resume our narrative, that is, on a beautiful morning in 
July — called by the Indians the month of the sun — two horsemen, followed by a 
magnificent black-and-white Newfoundland dog, were ascending at a sharp trot 
the course of the river, following what is called a wild-beast’s track, scarcely 
marked in the high grass. These men, dressed in the Chilian costume, surging 
up suddenly amidst this wild natural scene, formed by their manners and their 
vestments a contrast with everything which surrounded them, a contrast of 
which they probably had no idea. These two men were the Count Louis de 
Prebois-Crance and Valentine Guillois, his foster-brother. 

The young men had passed the night in an abandoned rancho which they had 


.«)0 


The Adventurers. 


fallen in with on their way, and at sunrise resumed their journey ; so that they 
now began to be sensible of the calls of hunger. Upon taking a survey of the 
spot wnere they found themselves, they perceived a clump of apple-trees, 
wmch intercepted the rays of the sun, and offered them a shelter for their repast 
and a little rest. They dismounted and sat down at the foot of a large apple- 
tree, leaving their horses to browse upon the young branches so abundant around 
them. Valentine knocked down a few apples with a stick, opened his alforjas — • 
large cloth pockets placed behind the saddle— drew out some sea biscuit, a p ece 
of bacon, and a goat’s-miik cheese, and the two young men began eating gaily, 
sharing their provisions with Caesar in a brotherly way. 

“ Caramba 1 ” said Valentine, “ it is comfortable to have a little rest after 
having been on horseback from four o’clock.” 

“ Well, to tell the truth, I must own 1 am a little fatigued,” Louis confessed. 

“ My poor friend, you are not, as I am, accustomed to long journeys.” 

“Bah! on the contnry, I am getting accustomed to them very well ; and 
besides,” he added with a sigh, “ physical fatigue makes me forget ” 

“ Ah ! that’s true,” Valentine interrupted ; “ I see you are becoming a man.” 

“ No,” said Louis, “ you are mistaken, I endeavour to play a manly part.” 

“Yes, hope is one of the supreme illusions of love ; when it can no longer 
exist, love dies.” 

“ Or he who experiences it,” said the young man. 

“ What a charming country,” cried Valentine, with feigned enthusiasm, for 
the purpose of giving the conversation another direction, as he swallowed with 
delectation an enormous piece of bacon. 

“ Yes, but the roads are very bad.” 

“ Who knows ? ” said Valentine, with a smile ; “ they say the roads to Para- 
dise are of that kind. And you, Caesar, what do you think of our journey, old 
boy ? ” 

The dog wagged his tail, fixing his eyes, sparkling with intelligence, upon 
the speaker’s face, whilst he eagerly devoured all that was given to him. But he 
stopped suddenly in his masticating operations, and barked furiously. 

“ Silence, Caesar,” said Valentine ; “ what do you bark in that manner for? 
You know right weH we are in a desert, and that in a desert there is nobody but 
the devil ! ” 

But Caesar continued to bark. 

“ Hum 1 ” said Louis, “ I do not agree with you ; I think that the deserts of 
America are thickly peopled.” 

“ Well, perhaps you are right.” 

“ The dog’s barking is not usual.” 

“ I will see,” said Valentine, and addressing the Newfoundland. “ Come, 
come ! hold your tongue, Caesar, you are tiresome 1 ” 

Here he rose, and cast an inquiring glance around, but he immediately 
stopped, and seized his rifle, making a sign to Louis to do the same. 

“ Diable 1 ” he said, “Caesar was right, and I must confess myself a stupid 
fellow. Look yonder, Louis.” 

The other turned his eyes as directed. 

“ Oh 1 oh ! ” i:e said ; “ what is this ? ” 

“ Hum ! I believe we shall soon discover.” 

“ With God’s help 1 ” Louis replied, cocking his rifle. » 

Ten Indians in war costume, and mounted on magnificent horses, were drawn 
up within twenty paces of the travellers, though the latter were quite unable to 
comprehend how they had succeeded in approaching so near to them without 
being discovered. 


s- 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE PUELCHES. 

** Eh eh ! ” said Valentine, whistling sharply to his dog, who immediately 
came to him ; “ these fellows do not seem to have friendly intentions.” 

“ They are Araucanos,” said Louis. 

“ Do you think so ? Then they are devilish ugly ! ” 

“ Well, now, I think them handsome.” 

“Ah, yes; that may be in an artistic point of view. But, ugly or handsome, 
we will await their coming.” 

The Indians talked among themselves. 

“ They are consulting to determine with what sauce they shall eat us,” said 
Valentine. 

“ Not at all ” 

“ Bah ! I tell you they are.” 

“ Pardieu ! they are not cannibals.” 

“ No ? So much the worse, that’s a defect.” 

“You madman! you laugh at everything.” 

“ Would you prefer my weeping a little ? It appears to me that at this 
moment our position is not seducing.” 

These Indians were for the most part men of from forty to forty-five years of 
age, clothed in the costume of the Puelches, one or the most warlike tribes of 
Upper Araucania. 

The man who appeared to be their chief was a man of lofty stature, expres- 
sive features, hard ai d haughty, but still displaying a certain frankness, a very 
rare quality among Indians. The only thing which distinguished him from his 
companions was a feather of the eagle of the Andes, planted upright on the 
left side of his head, in the bright red ribbon that confined his hair. 

Having consulted with his companions for a few minutes, the chief advanced 
tow rds the travellers, making his horse curvet with inimitable grace, and 
lowered the point of his lance in sign of peace. When within three paces of 
Valentine he stopped, and, after slowly bowing, said to him in Spanish — 

“ My brothers are Muruches — foreigners — and not Culme-Huinca — despicable 
Spaniards ? ” 

This question, asked in the guttural accent, and with the emphatic tone 
peculiar to the Indians, was perfectly understood by the young men. 

“Hum !” Valentine said, “ here is a savage who appears to have a little 
curiosity about him.” 

“ Bah 1 ” Louis replied, “ answer him, at all events — that will do no 
harm.” 

“ Why, no, that is true ; we cannot easily be more compromised than we ar* 
already.” 

And turning towards the chief, who waited impassively — 

“ We are travelling,” he said, laconically. 

“ What, alone thus ? ” asked the chief. 

** Does that astonish you, my friend ?” 

“ Do my brothers fear nothing ? ” 

“ What should we fear ? We have nothing to lose." 

“ What ! not even your hair ? ” 

Louis could not refrain from laughing. 


5 a 


The Adventurers . 


“ Ah, ah ! What! he is laughing at the disordered state of my hair, is he, the 
ugly wretch? ” Valentine grumbled. “Stop a bit.” Then he added, in a loud 
voice, “ Have the goodness to pass on, gentlemen savages. Your remarks are 
not pleasant, I can assure you." 

He cocked his rifle, and lifted it to his shoulder, as if taking aim at the chief. 
Louis, who had attentively followed the progress of the conversation, without 
saying a word imitated the action of his friend, directing the barrel of his rifle 
towards the group of Indians. The chief had doub less understood but little 
of the speeches of his adversaries, but far from appearing terrified at the mena- 
cing attitude they assumed, he seemed to contemplate with pleasure the martial 
and firm deportment of the Frenchmen. 

“ My friend is mistaken. I have no intention of insulting him. Were not 
the pale-faces eating when I and my young men came up ? ” 

“ Faith ! yes, chief, you say true,” interrupted Louis. 

“ Part of our repast is very much at your service,” continued Valentine, 
pointing with his finger to the provisions spread upon the grass. 

“ I accept your offer,” said the Indian, cordially. 

“ Bravo ! ” cried Valentine, throwing down his rifle ; “ to work, tuen.” 

“ Yes,” replied the chief, “ but upon one condition.” 

“ What is that ? ” the young men asked together. 

“ That I shall furnish my part.” 

“ Agreed,” said Louis. 

“ Well, that is but fair,” Valentine added, “ we having but meagre fare to 
offer you.” 

“ The bread of a friend is always good,” the chief said, sententiously. 

“That is admirably answered. But, at this moment, unfortunately, our 
bread is only stale biscuit.” 

“ I will remedy that ; ” and the chief quickly produced maize tortillas, some 
charqui, and several leathern bottles filled with chica — a sort of cider made of 
apples and Indian corn. The whole was placed upon the grass before the two 
Frenchmen, who were wonderstruck at the sudden abundance. The Indians 
dismounted, and sat down in a circle round the travellers. The chief then said 
with a pleasant smile — 

“ Now then, let my brothers eat.” 

The young men did not require the cordial invitation to be repeated, but 
vigorously attacked the provisions so frankly offered. As soon as appetite* was 
a little appeased conversation was resumed. 

Of all men, Indians perhaps understand the laws of hospitality the best. 
They have an instinct of social conventions. 

“ My brothers are not Spaniards ? ” the chief said. 

“ That is true,” Louis replied ; “ but how did you discover that? ” 

“ Oh,” he said, with a disdainful smile, “ we are well acquainted with those 
chiaplos — wicked soldiers. From what island do my brothers come ?” 

“ Our country is not an island,” Valentine observed. 

“ My brother is mistaken,” the chief said emphatically ; “ there is but one 
country that is not an island, and that is the great land of the Aucas.” 

The two young men bowed their heads. 

“ We are Frenchmen,” Louis replied. 

“ Frenchmen ! Ah 1 a good, brave nation. We had several French warriors 
in the time of the great war.” 

“ What ! ” said Louis, with excited curiosity, “ have French warriors foueht 
with you?” & 

‘Yes," the chief remarked proudly, “ warriors with grey beards, and breasts 


The Puelches . 53 

: ’ . : 

marked with honourable scars, which they received when they fought under the 

orders of their great chief, Zaleon.” 

“ Napoleon ? ” said Valentine, quite astonished. 

44 Yes ; I believe it is so the pale-face pronounces his name. Did my brother 
know him ? ” the chief added. 

“ No,” replied the young man. 44 Although born in his reign, I was never 
able to get sight of him, and he is now dead.” 

“ My brother is mistaken,” said the Puelche ; 44 such warriors do not die. 
When they have performed their task upon earth they go to Paradise.” 

The young men bowed, as if convinced. 

“ It is very singular,” said Louis, “ that the reputation of that powerful genius 
should have spread to the most remote and unknown regions of the globe 
' whilst in that France, for which he did everything, men invariably seek to lessen 

it.” 

“ Like all their compatriots, who, from time to time, traverse our hunt- 
ing-grounds, our brothers have, doubtless, trading purposes,” said the 
chief. 

44 We are not traders,” replied Valentine ; 44 we came to visit our brothers, the 
Araucanos.” 

44 The Moluchos love the French,” the chief said, flattered by the compliment ; 
“ my brothers will be well received in our villages.” 

“To what tribe does my brother belong?” asked Valentine, inwardly 
delighted. 

“ I am one of the principal ulmens of the sacred tribe of the Great Hare,” 
the chief said, proudly. 

44 Thank you. One word more.” 

“ Let my brother speak ; my ears are open.” 

“ We are in search of a Molucho chief, to whom we have a message from a 
friend of his.” 

“ What is the chief's name r ” 

“ Antinahuel.” 

44 Good ! ” 

“ Does my brother know him ? ” 

44 1 know him. If my brothers will follow me they shall see the toldo of a 
chief. When they have rested, I will myself conduct them to Antinahuel, the 
most powerful toqui of the four Utal-Mapus.” 

“ What province is governed by Antinahuel ? ” 

44 The Pire-Mapus.” 

44 Thanks, brother.” 

44 Will my brothers accept the offer I have made them ? ” 

44 Why should we not accept it, chief ? ” 

44 Let my brothers come, then,” the chief said, with a smile ; 44 my tolderia is 
not far off.” 

The breakfast was over, and + he Indians were mounting. 

44 We may as well go,” said Valentine, in French. “This Indian appears to 
speak cordially and honestly.” 

44 Well, I see no harm that accepting the invitation can do.” 

“ God speed us, then ! ” 

And with a bound he was in the saddle, imitated by Louis. 

44 Forward ! ” cried the chief, and the party set off'. 

44 Well, it must be allowed,” said Valentine, 44 that these savages, if savages 
they are, have some redeeming qualities. I begin to take a warm interest in 
them. They are true Scotch mountaineers for hospitality. I wonder what my 


54 


The Adventurers . 


regimental comrades, and more particularly my old friends of the Boulevard du 
Temple, would say if they could see me now ! ” 

Louis laughed, and, without making further inquiries, the young men gaily 
abandoned themselves to the guidance of their new friends. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE BLACK JACKAL. 

We are obliged here to relate an adventure which happened more than twenty 
years before. 

Towards the end of the month of December, 1816, on a cold, rainy night, a 
traveller, mounted on an excellent horse, was following at a round trot the blind 
path on the mountains which leads from Cruces to San Jose. This man was a 
rich landowner, who was making a journey into Araucania. Having left Cruces 
about two o’clock in the afternoon, he had been delayed on his way by settling 
some business with various huasos. 

For several days past the Pue'ches had anpeared in arms uoon the frontiers 
of Chili, and made incursions into the territories of the republic, burning the 
chacras, and carrying off the families they surprised. These marauders were 
commanded by a chief named The Black Jackal, whose cruelty spread terror 
among the people exposed to his depredations. 

It was, therefore, with some anxiety that the man we have snoken of made 
all speed along the desolate road. Every minute only added to his fears. The 
storm, which had threatened all day, burst forth at last with a fury of which we 
have no conception. The wind roared loudly through the trees, bending some 
and uprooting others. The rain fell in torrents, and the lightning became so 
vivid that the horse began to plunge and rear, and refused to advance. The 
rider spurred the restive an mal, and endeavoured, as well as the darkness 
would permit, to discover whereabouts he was. After surmounting immense 
difficulties, he saw at length in the distance the shadow of the walls of his 
>acienda, and the lights which shone like guiding stars, when suddenly his 
horse bounded on one side in such a way as almost to unseat him. When he 
looked round to see what could have frightened it so, he perceived, with terror 
equal to the horse’s, several men of sinister appearance standing motionless 
before him. The horseman’s first movement was to seize his pistols, 

“ Keep your hands from your weapons, Don Antonio Quintana,” said a rough 
voice ; “ we desire neither your life nor your money.” 

“ What do you want then? ” he replied. 

“ Hospitality for this night in the first place,” said the other. 

Don Antonio endeavoured to ascertain if he knew the man who was speaking 
to him. 

“ The doors of my dwelling always fly open to the stranger,” he remarked ; 
" why have you not knocked ? ” 

“ Knowing you must come this way, I preferred waiting for you.” 

“ What else do you desire of me, then ? ” 

“ I will tell you under your own roof.” 

“ If you have nothing more to say to me now, and are as willing as I am to 
get under shelter, we will continue our journey.” 

“ Go on, then ; we will follow you.” 

Without exchanging another word, they directed their course towards tho 


The Black Jackal. 


S3 


hacienda. Don Antonio Quintana was a resolute man. In spiteof the fluency with 
which the one who had spoken employed the Spanish language, he had, at the 
first word, by his guttural accent, perceived he was an Indian. 

On arriving at the hacienda, Don Antonio found he was not mistaken ; the 
men who had accosted him were really Indians. There were fo ir of them, and 
with them was a young woman with a child at the breast. The haciendero 
welcomed them to his dwelling with all the minute forms of Chilian courtesv 

«-> m j » 

and gave orders to his peons, or Indian domestics, to assist them with every- 
thing they might desire. 

“ Eat and drink,” he said ; you are at home here.” 

“ Thanks ! ’’ replied the man, who had till that time been spokesman. “ We 
accept your offer with as good a will as you give it, as far as regards tood.” 

“ Will you not rest tili day ? ” asked Don Antonio ; “ the night is dark, and 
the weather frightful.” 

“A black night is what we desire ; besides, we must depart immediately.” 

“ Explain yourself,” said the Spaniard, examining the speaker attentively. 

Ti e latter was a tall, well-made man of about forty. 

“ It was I,” he said, without preamble, “ who directed the last invasion made 
upon the pale-faces of the frontiers. My mosotones were all killed yesterday in 
an ambuscade by your lan eros ; the three that you see with me are all that 
remain of a troop of two hundred warriors ; the others are dead. I myself am 
wounded, hunted, tracked like a wild beast; we are without horses to rejoin out 
tribe. I come to ask of you the means of escape from our pursuers. I will 
neither deceive nor surprise your good faith. I am bound to tell you the name 
of the man whose safety you hold in your hands. ! am the greatest enemy of 
the Spaniards ; my life has been passed in contending with them. I am the 
Black Jackal.” 

On hearing this redoubtable name the Chilian could not suppress a start of 
terror ; but immediately recovering his self-possession, he replied, in a kind 
tone — 

“ You are mv guest, and you are unfortunate, two titles sacred with me. 1 
desire to know nothing more ; you shall have horses and arms. 

A smile of ineffable sweetness lit up the countenance of the Indian. 

Then the chief took bv the hand the young Indian squaw, who had remained 
cowering and weeping in a corner, rocking her child in her arms, and presented 
her to Don Antonio 

“This woman belongs to me; this child is mine,” he said, “ and I will con- 
fide them both to you.” 

“ I will take charge of them ; the young woman shall be my sister, the child 
my son,” the haciendero replied, kindly. 

'“The apo-ulmen will remember,” said the Puelche. 

He imprinted a kiss upon the brow of the poor little creature, who smiled 
upon him, cast upon the woman a look beaming with tenderness, and rusned 
out of the house. 

Many years passed away ere Don Antonio heard anything of the Black 
jackal ; the woman and the child remained at the hacienda, and were treated as 
if they had been members of the Chilian’s family. The haciendero had been 
married ; but, unfortunately, after a year which promised to be the commence- 
ment of a happy union, the wife died when giving b.rth to a beautiful little girl, 
whom her father named Maria. The two children grew up together, watched 
aver bv the anxious so icitude of the Indian woman. 

A: length, one day, a numerous troop of Puelches, magnificently equipped 
and mounted, arrived at Ric-Cnro, the town in which Don Antonio resided. 


The Adventurers, 


■•fi 


The chief of these Indians was the Black Jackal, who came to redemand his 
wife and son. The chief forgot his Indian stoicism ; he gave himself up to the 
feelings which agitated him, and enjoyed the happiness of finding again, 
after such a length of time, tne two beings he held dearest in the world. When 
it became necessary to depart, and the children learnt they were to be separated, 
they shed abundance of tears. 

Don Antonio had extended his traffic over different parts of the frontiers ; he 
possessed chacras in which the breeding of cattle was carried on upon a vast 
scale. The Black jackal, who had sworn a perpetual friendship, became of great 
use to him in his business transactions. Every year Don Antonio visited all 
his chacras in Araucania, and passed a couple of months among the tribe of 
the Black Serpems with the Black Jackal. His daughter accompanied him in 
all these journeys. 

At the period when our history commences, the Black Jackal was dead : he 
had fallen, like a brave warrior, with his weapons in his hand, in a combat on 
the frontier ; his son, Antinahuel, now about thirty-five years of age, who 
promised to tread in his footsteps, had been elected apo-ulmen in his place. 
Don Antonio had likewise died, shortly after the marriage of his daughter, 
Dona Maria, with Don Tadeo de Leon, brought to an untimely grave by his 
grief at her misconduct. 

Dona Maria for some years past had only seen Antinahuel at long intervals ; 
great, then, was the astonishment of the warriors of the tribe of the Black 
Serpents when, in the evening of the day on which we have resumed our story, 
they saw Dona Maria arrive on horseback, accompanied only by two peons. 
On perceiving her the usual gloomy face of the chief was suddenly lighted up 
with an expression of gladness. 

“ Eglantine of the Woods 1 ” he cried, in a joyous tone, “ does my sister then 
still remember the poor Indian ? ” 

“ I have come to visit the toldo of my brother,” she said, turning her brow 
towards him, upon which he impressed a kiss; ‘‘ my heart is sad, grief devours 
me.” 

The chief cast upon her a look of anxiety, mingled with sorrow. 

“ Although it be to trouble tnat 1 owe the visit of my sister, I am, neverthe- 
less, rejoiced to see her.” 

“ Yes,” she resumed, “ when we are in trouble we think of our friends.” 

“ My sister has done well in thinking of me.” 

“ My brother can render me a great service.” 

“ My life is my sister’s.” 

“ Thank you 1 I was certain I could depend upon my brother.” 

“ Everywhere, and at all times.” 

After bowing respectfully to Dona Maria, he led her into his rancho, wher* 
nis mother had prepared everything w .*thy of the visit. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

TWO OLD FRIENDS. 

Antinahuel, the Tiger Sun, was at that time a man of about thirty-five years 
of age. In stature he was tall, and in his carriage majestic ; everything in his 
person announced a man accustomed to command, and made to rule over his 


Two Old Friends 


57 


fellows. As a warrior, his reputation was immense, and his mosotones held 
him in superstitious veneration. 

The cloth was laid in the toldo — we make use of the expression, the cloth 
was laid, advisedly, because the Araucano chiefs are perfectly well acquainted 
with European customs, and possess dishes, plates, silver spoons and forks. 
It is true, they only make use of these upon great occasions. 

Dona Maria seated herself at the table, and made a sign to Antinahuel, who 
stood respectful v beside her, to keep her company. It was clear to the Indian 
chief that his sister, as he called her, who for some years had completely 
neglected him, must have been induced by some powerful interest to seek him 
thus in his remote village. 

On her side, the young woman was a prey to still greater uneasiness, for she 
was anxious to discover whether, in spite of her neglect of the chief, she 
had preserved the boundless power she had formerly exercised over that Indian 
nature, whicn civilisation had softened rather than subdued. 

When the repast was ended, a peon brought in the mate, the infusion of the 
Paraguay herb which, with tne Chilians, takes the place of tea, and of which 
they are very fond. Two chased cups, placed upon a filagree salver, were 
presented to Dona Maria and t' e chief ; they lit their maize papillos, and 
smoked, whilst sipping their mate reflectively. After a few minutes’ silence 
Dona Maria, w! o perceived that Antinahuel was resolved to act on the defen- 
sive, determined to open the attack. 

“ My brother,” she said, “ is surprised at my sudden arrival.” 

“ It is true ; the Eglantine of the Woods has appeared unexpectedly; she is 
not the less welcome.” 

And he bowed. 

“ I am glad to observe that my brother is as gallant as ever.” 

“ I love my sister, and I am happy to see her, after being so long deprived of 
her presence.” 

“ I know your friendship for me, Penni ; our childhood was passed together 
but it is long since that time.” 

“The Eglantine of the Woods is my sister; her least wishes shall always be 
sacred with me.” 

“ Thanks ; but let us talk of our early years, which, alas ! so quickly glided 
away.” 

“ Yesterday exists no longer,” he said, sententiouslv. 

“ That’s true,” she replied ; “ why, indeed, should we talk of times that can 
never come back ? ” 

“ Does my sister intend to return to Chili ? ” 

“ No ; I have left Santiago for a time; I intend, for a season, to take up my 
abode at Valdivia. I left my friends to continue their route, whilst I came on 
to pay my respects to my brother.” 

“Yes, I know that the man whom the pale-faces call General Bustamente, 
though scarcely cured of a dangerous wound, set off, a month ago, to visit the 
province of Valdivia.” 

“ There are many pale-faces from the south there at present.” 

“ Among these strangers are there any that I know ? ” 

“ Good heavens ! how can I tell ? Yes, Don Tadeo, my husband.” 

Antinahuel raised his head in astonishment. 

“ I thought 1 e had been shot ! ” he said. 

“ He escaped death, though grievously wounded.” 

The artful woman endeavoured to read what impression the news she had so 
coolly imparted made-. 


58 


The Adventurers 


“ Listen to me, my sister,” he resumed ; “ Don Tadeo is still tour enemy, is 
he not ? ” . 

" Yes : not content with having basely abandoned me, arid having torn from 
me my child, the innocent creature who aione consoled me and enabled me to 
support the sorrows with which he has overwhelmed me, he has crowned his 
insults by publicly paying his addresses to another woman, whom he takes with 
him everywhere, and who is at this moment his companion at Valdivia.’ 

“ Hum ! ” the chief said, carelessly. 

Accustomed to Araucanian manners, which permit every man to take as 
many wives as he can support, he found the action of Don Tadeo perfectly 
natural. This did not escape Dona Maria : an ironical smile curled for a second 
the corners of her lips, and she continued, negligently, but looking earnestly in 
the face of the chief — 

“ Yes, the woman is called, as I hear, Dona Rosario de Mendoz; and is, they 
say, a beautiful creature.” 

That name, pronounced with such apparent indifference, produced the effect 
of a clap of thunder upon the chief. 

“ Rosario de Mendoz, did you say, my sister ? ” he shouted. 

“ Good heavens ! I hardly know,” she replied. “ I have onlv heard her name 
— but,” she added, “what interest can my brother take in it?” 

“ Oh ! none,” he said, as he quietly resumed his seat. “ Why does not my 
sister avenge herself upon the man.” 

“ To what purpose ? and, besides, 1 am but a weak and timid woman, without 
friends, without support.” 

“ And I ? ” said the chief ; “ what am I, then ? ” 

“ Oh ! ” she replied, warmly ; “ I would not on any account that my brother 
should constitute himself the avenger of an insult that is personal to myself.” 

“ My sister is mistaken ; in attacking this man 1 avenge my own insult.” 

“ My brother must explain himself.” 

“That is what I am going to do.” 

“ I am all attention.” 

At this moment Antinahuel's mother entered the toldo, and said — 

“ My son is wrong in tnus recalling old remembrances and opening ancient 
wounds again.” 

“ Woman ! ” the Indian replied, “ retire 1 I am a warrior! my father left me 
a vengeance. I have sworn.” 

The poor mother left the toldo with a sigh. The linda. whose curiosity was 
excited, awaited impatiently the chief’s explanation. Without, the rain fell 
pattering upon the leaves of the trees ; at intervals a blast of night-wind, 
loaded with uncertain sounds, came whistling tnrough the ill-joined boards of 
the toldo, and caused the flame of the torch which lighted it to waver unsteadily. 
The two speakers, though absorbed in their own reflections, involuntarily lent 
an ear to tuese nameless sounds, and felt a depression of spirits they could not 
account for. The chief commenced in a low voice — 

“ Although my sister is almost a child of the nation, as my mother nursed 
her, she has never been made acquainted with the historv of my family. The 
history I am about to relate will reveal to her that I have against Don Tadeo 
de Leon an Sid hatred.” 

Don Maria bowed assentingly. 

“ When the vile Span.ards,” he continued, “conquered Chili, and reduced its 
inhabitants to slavery, they dreamt of suojugating Araucania, and marched 
against the Aucas, whose frontiers they violated. Tne conflict was terrible ; it 
lasted from the rising to the setting of the sun. Many warriors departed for 


Two Out Friends . 


59 


the happy prairies, but Pillian did not abandon the Aucas ; they were con- 
querors, and th Chiaplo fled like timid hares. Numbers of pale-faces fell into 
our hands ; among them was Don Estevan de Leon. The toqui Cadegual 
might have employed his rights, and have k riled him, but he did nothing of the 
kind : so far ftom it, he led him to his toldo, and treated him with kindness as 
a brother. But when did Spaniards ever show themselves grateful for a kind- 
ness ? Don Estevan, forgetful of the sacred duties of hospitality, seduced the 
Va ughter of die man to whom he owed his life, and one day disappeared with 
The grief of the toqui was immense ; he swore to wage from that time a 
less war against the pale-faces, and he kept his oath. These terrible 
risals were just, were they not ?” 

' Yes,” said the linda laconically. 

“ One day, Cadegual, surprised by his ferocious enemies, fell, covered with 
wounds, into their hands. In his turn, as it happened, i adegual was in the 
power of Don Estevan de Leon. The Spanish chief recollected the man who 
had, years before, saved his life. He was merciful. After cutting off the hands, 
and scooping out the eves of his prisoner, he restored to him his daughter, of 
whom he was tired. The toqui was led back by his child, whom he pardoned. 
When he joined his tribe, Cadegual called together his relations, related to them 
what he had suffered, showed diem his bleeding and mutilated arms, and, after 
having made his sons and all his relations swear to avenge him, he allowed 
himself to die of hunger.” 

“ Oh, that is fr'ghtful ! ” Dona Maria cried. 

“That is nothing vet!” the chief resumed; “let my sister listen. From 
that time an implacable destiny has always hung over the two families. During 
three centuries this ardent, inveterate struggle has lasted, and will never ter- 
minate but by the extinction of one, or perhaps both. Up to the present time 
the advantage has almost always been on the side of the Leons. At the present 
day the family of Don Estevan has but one representative, Don Tadeo — a 
representative formidable through his courage, his fortune, and his immense 
influence. He, personally, has never injured the Aucas; he seems even to be 
ignorant of the inveterate hatred which exists between his family and that of 
the toqui ; but the descendants of Cade ua! do not forget it : they are strong, 
numerous, and powerful in their turn ; the hour of vengeance has struck, they 
will not let it escape.” 

“ Your mother asked you properly, Penni, why should you revive old hatreds. 
The whites are numerous ; they have many warlike soldiers.” 

“ Oh,” he replied, with a sinister look ; “ I am sure of succeeding, for I have 
my nymph.” 

Indians of high rank all entertain a firm belief that they have a familiar 
genius, who is bound to obey them. 

Dona Maria feigned to yield to this reason ; she had succeeded in putting the 
hunter upon the scent of the game si e wished to destroy. She knew perfectly 
well that the hat.ed alleged by the chief was nothing but a pretext, and that the 
real cause remained hidden in tne depths of his heart. 

She continued talking witn Antinahuel for sometime longer about indifferent 
subjects, and then retired to her cnamber. It was late, and she wished to set 
out for Valdivia at daybreak. She was sufficiently well acquainted with the 
companion of her childhood to know that, now the tiger was roused, it would 
not be long before he started in quest of his prey. 


fa 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE SORCERER. 

On the same dav, a tolderia, situated at some miles from Orano, was a scene 
of the greatest commotion. The women and warriors assembled in front of a 
toldo, on the threshold of which was exposed a corpse, lying as it were in state 
upon a bed of branches, were uttering cries and groans, which were mingled 
with the deafening sound of drums and flutes in mo-t dismal discord, and the 
continuous howling of dogs, whom all this din rendered furious. In the middle 
of the crowd, by the side of the body, stood a man advanced in years, tall in 
stature, and clothed in the costume of a woman, who appeared to direct the 
ceremony, making extraordinary gestures and contortions, accompanied by 
scarcely human yells. This man, of a ferocious aspect, was' the machi, or 
sorcerer of the tribe. 

“ Ulmen of the powerful tribe of the Great Hare,” he said, in a sepulchral 
tone, “ thy father, the valiant ulmen, who has been ravished from us by Pillian, 
is no longer in dread of the influence of the evil genius, whom I' have forced to 
depart ; he now hunts in the happy prairies of the Eskennane with the just 
warriors.” 

“ Stop ! ” the chief replied, warmly ; “ my father is dead, but who has killed 
him ? A warrior does not succumb thus, in a few hours, unless some secret in- 
fluence has weighed upon him. Answer me, tell me the name of the assassin I 
My heart is sad.” 

At these words, pronounced in a firm voice, a shudder crept through the 
ranks of the people. The machi, after having looked searchingly round, cast 
down his eyes, crossed his arms upon his breast, and appeared to reflect. 

The Araucanos only think one sort of death possible — that on the field of 
battle ; they do not suppose any one can lose his life by either accident or 
disease. In these two cases they always attribute death to the action of an 
occult power, and are persuaded that some enemy of the defunct has cast the 
charm upon him that has killed him. 

Fresh personages, among whom were Valentine and his friend, had arrived 
at the village, and, attracted by curiosity, mingled with the crowd collected 
round the body. The two Frenchmen could not comprehend anything of this 
scene. 

“ Speak ! ” said the ulmen, after a short pause. “ Does not my father know 
the name of the man of whom we must demand an account of this murder?” 

“ I know him,” the sorcerer replied, in a solemn tone. 

“ Why, then, does the inspired machi preserve silence ? ” 

“ Because,” the machi said, looking this time the newly-arrived chief full in 
the face, “ there are powerful men who laugh at human justice.” 

The eyes of the crowd turned to the man whom the sorcerer appeared 
indirectly to point out. 

“ The gui.ty man,” the ulmen cried, in a loud voice, “ whatever be his rank 
in the tribe, shall not escape my just vengeance ; speak without fear, priest of 
late ! " 

The machi drew himself up majestically ; he raised his arm slowly, and. 
amidst the general anxious curiosity, he, with his finger, pointed to the chief 
who had offered such cordial hospitality to the strangers. 


The Sorcerer, 


6 1 


“Accomplish your oath, then, ulmen — that is the assassin of your father; 
Trangoil-Lanec cast the charm upon him which has killed him ! ” 

And the machi veiled his face with the corner of his poncho, as if over* 
whelmed with grief. 

The sorcerer’s terrible words were succeeded by the silence of astonishment. 
Trangoil-Lanec, who was the last man in the tribe who would have been sus- 
pected, remained impassive ; a smile of disdain passed over his lips, he dis- 
mounted from his horse, and waited. 

The ulmen walked slowly towards him, and when within a few paces, asked, 
in a sorrowful voice — 

“ Why didst thou kill my father, Trangoil-Lanec ? He loved thee, and 1, 
was not I thy Penni ? ” 

“ I have not killed thy father, Curumilla,” the chief replied, with a tone of 
frankness that would have convinced a man less prejudiced than the one he 
addressed. 

“ The machi has said so." 

“ The machi lies." 

“ No, the machi cannot lie- thou, thy wife, and thy children must die ; the 
law decrees that it shall be so." 

Without deigning to reply, the chief threw down his arms, and went and 
placed himself beside the stake of blood, planted in front of the sacred idol. A 
circle was formed, of which the stake formed the centre ; the wife and children 
of the chief were brought up, and were prepared immediately for the sacrifice ; 
for ‘the funeral ceremony of the chief could not be completed before the execu- 
tion of his murderer. The machi was triumphant. 

The two Frenchmen had anxiously watched the spectacle of this infamous 
drama ; Louis was disgusted with the rascality of the machi. 

“ Oh ! ” he said to his friend, “ we cannot allow this, murder to be accom- 
plished.” 

“ Hum ! ” muttered Valentine, stroking the ends of his light moustache. 
There is a great number of them." 

“ What matters it how many ? ” replied Louis ; “ I will not be the witness of 
such iniquity. I will attempt to save the life of that unfortunate man.” 

“ The fact is," Valentine said, “ this Trangoil-Lanec, as they call him, is a 
very worthy fellow ; but what can we do ? ” 

“ Pardieu ! ” Louis said, “ rush between him and his enemies; we can each 
of us kill five or six.” 

“ Yes, and the others will kill us without our having succeeded in saving the 
man for whom we devote ourselves. Let us try to find some other plan." 

“ We must be quick, then ; the torture is about to commence.” 

Valentine struck his forehead, and cried, with a jeering laugh — 

“Bah! I have it! Trick must serve our turn— leave it to me; my old 
trade of a mountebank will do. Help me ; but, for heaven’s sake, remain 
calm." 

“ I swear I will, if you save him.” 

«* Be satisfied — against rogue I’ll play rogue and a half.” 

Valentine urged his horse into the middle of the circle, and shouted — 

“ Stop a minute ! ” 

At the unexpected appearance of this man whom nobody had yet observed!, 
all turned round and looked at him with asto ishment. Louis, with his hands 
On his pistols, watched his movements with anxiety. 

«'We will not joke,” continued Valentine, “we have not time for that. You 
are a set of fools, and vour machi is laughing at you. What! would you kill a 


The Adventurers . 


6 » 


man without a moment’s reflection, because a rogue bids you do so ? Carambai 
I have taken it into my head to prevent your committing such a folly.” 

And placing his hand upon his hip, he looked round with an intrepid glance 
The Indians, according to their strange custom, listened to this speech without 
evinc ng surprise. Curumilla approached him. 

“ My pale brother must retire,” he said, calmly; “he is unacquainted with 
the laws of the Puelches; this man is condemned.” 

“ 1 repeat to you, you are fools! ” said Valentine, shrugging his shoulders; 
“your machi is no more a conjurer than I am. I tell you ne is cheating you.” 

“ What says my father ? ” said Curumilla to the machi, who stood cold and 
motionless. 

The machi smiled disdainfully. 

“ When did the white man ever speak truth ? ” he replied with a sneer. 

“ Good ! ” the ulmen said ; “ the Murucho may speak.” 

“ Pardieu ” cried Valentine. “ Notwithstanding the bold-faced assurance 
of this individual, I shall find it no difficult matter to prove that he is an 
impostor.” 

“ We are attentive,” said Curumilla. 

The Indians d »?w round with intense curiosity. Louis could not at all make 
out what his friend proposed to do. He could only suppose that some 
extravagant idea had crossed his brain, and was as impatient as the rest to sei 
how he would act. 

“ One moment ! ” said the machi j “ what will my brothers do if I prove r 
accusation true ?” 

“ The stranger must die,” said Curumilla, coolly. 

“ I accept the terms,” Valentine replied, resolutely, and then exclaimed, 
pompously — 

“ I, too, am I great medicine man !” 

The Indians bowed reverentially. The science of Europeans is perfectly 
established among them. 

“ It was not Trangoil-Lanec,” continued the Frenchman, with the greatest 
audacity, “ who killed the chief ; it was the machi himself.” 

A start of astonishment pervaded the assembly. 

“ I ! ” cried the machi, in a voice of amazen’ent. 

“ You, yourself, and you know it well,” replied Valentine, giving him a look 
that made him tremble. 

“ Stranger,” said Trangoil-Lanec, with the majesty of a martyr, “ it is no use 
to interpose in my favour; mv brothers believe me guilty.” 

“ Your devotion to your laws is noble, but in this case it is absurd,” Valentine 
replied. 

“ This man is guilty,” the machi persisted. 

“ Let us put an end to this, then,” replied Trangoil-Lanec ; “ kill me 1 ” 

“ What say my brothers ? ” Curumilla asked. 

“ That the Murucho medicine-man be allowed to prove the truth of h?! 
words,” replied the warriors. 

They loved Trangoil-Lanec, and in their hearts desired that he should not 
die. On the other hand, they entertained for the machi a profound hatred. 

“Very well,” said Valentine, “this is what I propose.” 

All were silent as the grave. The Frenchman drew his sword, and waved 
he bright blade before the e es of the spectators. 

“ You see this weapon,” said he ; “I will put it into my mouth, and swallow 
it up to the hilt. If Trangoi -Lanec is guilty, I shall die; if he is innocent, as 
I affirm, I shall draw forth the sword from my body without suffering a wound.’ 


The Sorcerer , 


*3 


“ My brother speaks like a courageous warrior,” said Curumillc.; “weaTe 
ready to behold.” 

“ 1 will not suff.r itl ” Trangoil-Lanec shouted. “ Does my brother want to 
kill himself ? ” 

“ Pillian is judge,” Valentine replied, with a smile of strange expression. 

The two Frenchmen exchanged a glance. The Indians are perfect children 
in their love of spectacle, and the extraordinary proposal of the Parisian 
seemed to them to admit of no reply. 

“ The trial ! the trial ! ” they shouted. 

“ Very well,” said Valentine. 

He first placed himself in the proper position adopted by jugglers when they 
exhibit this feat in public places; then introducing the blade of the sword into 
his mouth, in a few seconds the whole of it disappeared. During the perform- 
ance of this trick, which in their eyes was a miracle, the Puelches watched the 
Frenchman in breathless terror. They could not comprehend how a man could 
perform such an operation without deliberately killing himself. Valentine 
turned on all sides, so that every one might be convinced of the reality of the 
fact ; then he deliberately withdrew the blade from his mouth, as bright as 
when it came from the sheath. A cry of enthusiasm burst from the crowd. 

“ One minute more,” he said ; “ I have still something to demand of you.” 

Silence was in an instant re-estabiished. 

“ I have proved to you, in an incontrovertible manner, that the chief is not 
guilty — have I not ? ” 

“ Yes! yes ! ” they shouted simultaneously ; “ the pale-face is a great medi- 
cine man.” 

“Very well. Now, then,” he added, with a sardonic smile, “\our mac. a 
should prove in his turn that I have calumniated him, and t at it was not he 
who killed the apo-ulmen of your tnbe. The dead chief was a great warrior ; 
he ought to be avenged.” 

“ Yes,” the warriors cried, “ he ought to be avenged.” 

“ My brother speaks well,” observed Curumilla ; “ let the machi be put to the 
proof.” 

The unfortunate machi perceived at once that he was lost. He became 
livid. 

“This man is an impostor,” he muttered, in a voice scarcely audible; “he 
abuses your good faith.’ 

“ Perhaps ! am,” said Valentine ; “ but, in the meantime, imitate me.” 

“ Here,” said Curumilla, holding out the sw.>rd, “ if you are innocent, Pillian 
will protect you.” 

Caramba ! that is certain ; Pillian always protects the innocent, and y o 
are about to be a proof of it,” said the Parisian. 

The machi cast around a look of despair; all eves were expressive of im. 
patience and curiosity ; the unhappy wretch perceived but too plainly that he 
could look for help to nobody, and he formed his resolution instantly. 

“I fear noth. ng,” he said, in a firm voice; “ tnis steel will be harmless to 
me You desire that I should go through the trial — I will obey. But, beware ! 
Piilian is angry with your conduct towards me.” 

At these words of their pr. phet ti e Puelches were moved. They hesitated. 
For many long years they had been accustomed to place entire faith in his pre- 
dic ions, and they experienced a Kind ot tear in thus daring to accuse him of 
imposture. 

‘ Capitally well played,” said Valentine, replying bv a knowing wink ; “ now 
it is my turn. Let my brothers take heart ! ” he added, -in a loud, firm voice. 


< 5 4 


The Adventurers . 


“ No misfortune threatens them ; this man speaks thus because he is afraid to 
die.” 

The machi darted a glance at him gleaming with hatred, seized the sword, 
and, imitating as well as he knew how what he had seen, with desperate quick- 
ness plunged the blade down his throat. A stream of black blood sprang from 
his mouth, his eyes glared hideously, his arms shook convulsively, he staggered 
two steps forward, and fell fiat upon his face. The people crowded round him 
— he was dead. 

“ Let this lying dog be thrown to the vultures,” said Curumilla, kicking the 
lifeless body with contemot. 

“ We are brothers for life and death,” cried Lanec. 

“ Well,” the young man said with a smile, to his friend, “ I think I have not 
got very badly through that affair — eh ? You see it is well sometimes to have 
practised many trades ; even that of a mountebank may serve at need.” 

“Do not calumniate your heart,” Louis replied, warmly pressing his handj 
‘‘you have saved a man.” 

“ Ay ; but 1 have killed another.” 

“ Oh, he was a guilty wretch 1 ” 


CHAPTER XXI. 

THE OBSEQUIES OF AN APO-ULMEN 

The emotion caused by the death of the machi gradually died away, and order 
was re-established. 

“ Now my father is avenged, we cm restore his body to the earth,” Curumilla 
observed. Then, advancing towards the strangers, he bowed to them, saying-* 

“ Will the pale-faces assist the obsequies? ” 

“ We will,” Louis replied. 

“ My toldo is large,” the chief continued ; “ my brothers will do me honour by 
consenting to inhabit it during their sojourn with the tribe.” 

Louis wis about to reply, but Trangoil-Lanec hastily prevented him. 

“ My brothers the pale-faces,” he said, “ have deigned to accept mv Door 
hospitality/’ v y v 

The young men bowed in silence. 

“ <Tood ! ” the ulmen continued. “ Of what consequence is that ? Whichever 
be the toldo the Muruchos may choose, I shall consider them as my guests.” 

“ Many thanks, chief,” Valentine replied; “ be assured that we are grateful 
for your kindness.” 

1 he ulmen then took leave of the Frenchmen, and resumed his place by the 
Side of his father’s corpse, and the ceremonies commenced. 

At a signal from Curumilla, the warriors drew back to give place to the 
women, who surrounded the body, and began to walk in a circle, singing in a 
low and plaintive tone the noble feats of the deceased. At the expiration of 
about an hour, the cortege moved off after the corpse, which was borne by the 
four most renowned warriors of the tribe, and directed its course towards a hill 
ivhere the place of sepulture was prepared. Behind followed the women 
casting handfuls of hot ashes over the traces left by the passage of the funeral 
train; so that if the soul of the defunct should have any inclination to return 
io its body, it would not be able to find the way to his toldo, or come and 
trouble his heirs. 


The Obsequies of an Apo-Ulmen. 


65 


When the body was laid in the grave, Curumilla cut the throats of his father’s 
dogs and horses, which were placed near him, to enable him to hunt in the 
happy prairies. Within reach of his hand was placed a certain quantity of 
provisions for the nourishment of himself and the tempulazzy, or boatman, 
appointed to convex him to the other country. 

Earth was then thrown in upon the body. But, as the defunct had been a 
renowned warrior, a heap of stones was collected, of which a pyramid was 
formed ; then every one walked slowly once more round the tomb, pouring 
upon it a great quantity of chica. The relations and friends returned dancing 
and singing to the village, where awaited them one of those Homeric repasts 
of Araucanian funerals called cahuins, which last till all the partakers lie upon 
the ground utterly intoxicated. 

Trangoil-Lanec, as we have said, was one of the richest and most respected 
chiefs of his tribe, and had eight wives. Polygamy is allowed. When an 
Indian is desirous of marrying a woman, he declares his purpose to her parent, 
and fixes the number of animals he is willing to give. His conditions being 
accepted, he comes with a few friends, carries off the young woman, throws her 
on the saddle behind him, and gallops off to the woods, in the depths of which 
the couple remain three days. On the fourth they return : he slaughters a 
young mare in front of the hut of the father of his bride, and the marriage 
festivities begin. The abduction of the bride and the sacrifice of the mare 
take the place of a civil contract. 

The two Frenchmen, thrown so suddenly into the midst of these strange 
manners and customs, were some time before they could comprehend Indian 
life. Valentine, in particular, was completely at a loss ; he was in a state of 
perpetual astonishment, which, however, he took care should not appear in his 
words or in his actions. 

One evening, when Louis was preparing, as he frequently did, to visit the 
various toldos, in order to inquire after the sick, and administer to them all the 
relief his limited knowledge of medicine permitted, Curumilla came to the two 
strangers to invite them to be present at the cahuin given by the new machi, 
who had been elected that day, in place of the dead one. Valentine promised 
that they would come. 

From what we have said before, it may easily be comprehended what an 
enormous influence a sorcerer possesses over the members of the tribe; the 
choice is therefore difficult to make, and is seldom a good one. The sorcerer 
is generally a woman : when it is a man, he assumes the female costume. 

After smoking a considerable number of pipes, and making endless speeches, 
the Araucanos had cnoseu, u.a a successor to the machi, an old man, of a mild, 
kindly character. 

The repast was, as may be supposed, copious, abundantly furnished with 
ulpo, the national dish of the Araucanos, and moistened with an incalculable 
number of couis of chica. Among the other delicacies which figured at the 
feast was a large basket filled with hard eggs. 

“ Why don’t you eat some eggs?” said Curumilla to Valentine. “ Do you 
not like them ? ” 

“ On the contrary, chief, I am very fond of eggs, but not cooktd in that 
fashion.” 

“ Oh! yes,” the ulmen said ; “ I understand; you prefer them raw.” 

Valentine burst into a Homeric fit of laughter. 

“ Nc>t better than these,” he said, when he had recovered his gravity. “ I 
Uke eggs boiled in the shell; I like omelettes, or pancakes, but neither hard oor 
raw, if you please.” 


66 


The Adventurers . 


“ What do you mean by tint ? Cooked eggs must be hard.” 

The young man looked at him with astonishment, and then said to him in a 
tone of profound compassion — 

“ Now, really, chief, do you mean to say you are only acquainted with hard 
eggs P ” 

“ Oar fathers have always eaten them thus.” 

“ Poor people! how I pity taem ! They have been ignorant of one of the 
greatest enjoyments of life. Well, my friend,” he exclaimed, “ I am deter- 
mined you shall adore me as a benefactor to humanity. In short, I will endow 
you with Toft-boiled eggs and with omelettes ; at least, the remembrance of me 
shall not die from among you.” 

In spite of his sadness, Louis could not help laughingat the burlesque humour 
and inexhaustible cheerfulness of his foster-brother, in whom, at every minute, 
the gamin prevailed over the serious man. The chiefs welcomed with joy the 
offer of the spahi, and asked, with ioud cries, on what day he would carry his 
promise. 

“ Oh, I will not make you wait long,” he said ; “to-morrow, on the square of 
the tolderia, and before all the assembled tribe of the Great Hare, I will show 
you how you must set about boiling an egg and making an omeiette.” 


CHAPTER XXII. 

EXPLANATIONS. 

We will now return to the chacra of Don Gregorio Peralta, to which Dona 
Rosano had been conducted after her miraculous deliverance. The first days 
that followed the departure of the two Frenchmen were sufficiently devoid of 
incident. Dona Rosario, shut up ;n her bedroom, remained alone. The poor 
girl, like all wounded spirits, sought to forget reality, by taking refuge in 
dreams, in order to collect and preserve piousiy in the depths of her heart the 
few happy remembrances which had so rarely gilded with a ray of sunshine the 
sadness of her existence. Don Tadeo, complexly absorbed in his political 
combinations, could only see her now and then. Before him, she endeavoured 
to appear cheerful, but she suffered the more from being obliged to conceal in 
her own bosom the sorrow which consumed her. She occasionally crept down 
into the garden; she stopped under the arbour in which her meeting with 
Louis had taken place, and remained nours together thinking of him she 
loved. 

This poor child, so beautiful, so mild, so pure, so worthy of being loved, was 
condemned by an implacable destiny to lead a life of suffering and isolation, 
without a relation, without a friend to whom sne might impart the secret of her 
grief. She was littie more than sixteen, and au'eany her braised heart shrank 
bacx upon itself. 

d he maiden s story was a strange one. She had never known her parents ; 
she had no remembrance of the kisses of her mother — those warm caresses of 
childhood, whic.i mane even mature are tremble with ii y. From her earliest 
days she could only remember being alone, always alone, in the hands of tha 
mercenary. 

Don Tadeo was the only person who was attached to her ; he had never 
auanuoned her, but watched with the greatest care over her material well. 


Explanations . 


07 


being, smiled upon her, and ever gave her good and pleasant counsels ; but 
Don Tadeo was much too serious a man to comprehend trie tnou^and little 
cares which the education of a young girl requires. 

The visits of Don Tadeo were surrounded by an incomprehensible mystery ; 
sometimes, without apparent cause, he made her suddenly quit people to whom 
he had confided her, and took her away with him, after ordering her to change 
her name, upon long tours. It was thus she had been to France : then he 
quite as unexpectedly brought her back to Chili. 

She had often, urged by the instinct of curiosity so natural to her age in the 
exceptional position in which she was placed, sought by adroit questions to 
seize the thread that might guide her in this labyrinth ; but all had proved use- 
less. Don Tadeo remained mute. One day only, after having for a long time 
contemplated her with an expression of sadness, he pressed her to his heart, 
and said in a trembling voice — 

“ Poor child ! I will protect you against your enemies ! ” 

One evening, when, sad and thoughtful as usual, and buried in the depths of 
an easy-chair, in her bedchamber, she was turning over the leaves of a book 
which she was not reading, Don Tadeo entered the room. He saluted her, as 
he always did, by a kiss on her brow, and said quietly — 

“ I wish to speak with you, Rosario.” 

“ I am all attention, dear friend,” she replied, endeavouring to smile. 

“ My dear child,” he said, “ I have sad news to inform you of.” 

“Speak, my kind friend,” she replied. 

“ Urgent affairs require my presence as soon as possible in Valdivia.” 

“ Oh ! ” she cried, with an expression of terror, “you will not leave me here, 
will you ? ” 

“ At first I intended to do so, this retreat appearing to me to unite all 
guarantees ; but cheer up, my child. I have fancied you would prefer accom. 
panying me ? ” 

“Oh, yes,” she said, eagerly; “you are always kind. When do we set 
out ? ” 

“ To-morrow, dear child, at sunrise.” 

“ I shall be ready,” she replied, holding up her pretty face towards him, that 
he might impress his customary kiss upon her brow. 

Don Tadeo reared, and Rosario immediately set about the preparations for 
her journey. Ol what consequence was it to her whether she were in one place 
or another, since she was doomed to suffer everywhere ? And who can say 
whether the poor girl, without daring to avow it to herself, did not entertain 
the hope of again seeing him she loved ? 

Val ivia, founded in 1551 by the Spanish conqueror, Don Pedro de Valdivia, 
is a charming city, two leagues from the sea, upon the left bank of a river, 
which large vessels can easily ascend. The aspect of the city, the advanced 
post of civilisation in these remote countries, is most agreeable ; the streets 
are large and uniformly built ; the white houses, only one storey high, on account 
of the frequency of earthquakes, are terra -'e-roo led. Here and there rise in 
the air the steeples of the numerous churches and convents, which oc;upy more 
than a third of he city. 

Don Tadeo arrived in Valdivia, accompanied by Don Gregorio and Dona 
Rosario, on the evening of the sixteenth day after his departure from his 
friend’s chacra. They had used all diligence, and, for that country, where 
here are no other means of travelling but on horseback, it might be considered 
a quick journey. 

U the two gentlemen had thought proper to do so, they might have entered 


63 


The Adventurers. 


the city about three o’clock in the afternoon, but they deemed it advisable that 
no one in a place where so many people knew them should be made aware of 
their arrival; in the first place, because the causes which brought them there 
required the greatest secrecy; and, further, because Don Tadeo was forced to 
conceal himseif, in oraer to avoid tne police agents of the president of the 
republic. 

As during his sojourn at Valdivia his manner of living must be regulated 
by the affairs which brought him there, he could not o ■en*/ keep house or 
appear in public, Don Tadeo went straight to the convent of th • Ursuines, 
and committed the young lady he had brought with him to the care of the 
abbess. Dona Rosario accepted without hesitation the asylum which was 
offered to her, and where she fancied she should be safe from the attacks of 
her enemies. Don Tadeo took an affectionate leave of her and the venerable 
abbess, and hastened to a house of the calle San Xavier, wnere Don Gregorio 
awaited his coming. 

“ Well ? ” asked Don Gregorio, as soon as he saw him. 

“ She is in safety ; at least I suppose so.” 

“ So much the better, for we must redouble our precautions n 

“Why so?” 

“ After leaving you I made inquiries. I observed ; I questioned people as I 
walked about and loitered at the port and the Almeda.” 

“ Well, what have you learnt? ” 

“ General Bustamente is here.” 

“ Already ! ” 

“ He arrived three days ago.” 

“ What reason could be so important as to bring him here ? ” said Don 
Tadeo, with an uneasy expression. 

“ Another thing: who do you think accompanies him ? ” 

“ The executioner, no doubt ! ” said D jn Tadeo, witn an ironical smile. 

“ Almost as bad,” Don Gregorio replied. 

“ Wnom do you mean, then ? ” 

“The linda!” 

The chief of the Dark Hearts turned deadly pale. 

“ Oh,” he said, “ that woman 1 you must be mistaken.” 

“ I have seen her.” 

Don Tadeo walked about in great agitation for several minutes ; then, 
stopping short in front of his friend, ne said, in a husky voice — 

“ Dear Don Gregorio, are you certain you have not been misled by a resem- 
blance?” 

“ You had just left me, and I was coming hither, when the sound of horses 
made me turn my head, and I saw the linda. Sue also appeared to have just 
arrived at Valdivia ; two lancers escorted her. 

“ Oh ! ” said Don Tadeo, “ will the infernal malice of that demon ever 
pursue me ? ” 

“ My friend,” Don Gregorio remarked, “ in the path we have undertaken 
every obstacle must be destroyed.” 

“ What, kill a woman ! ” the gentleman said, with horror. 

“ I do not say that, but place her in such a position that she cannot possibly 
injure any one. Remember, we are Dark Hearts, and, as such, we ouoht to be 
without pity.” 

“ Silence ! ’’Don Tadeo murmured, as two low, quick taps were struck on the 
door. 

“ Come in 1 ” cried Don Gregorio. 


Explanations, 


Co 


The door opened, and Don Pedro showed his polecat face. He did not 
recognise the two men. 

“ God preserve you, gentlemen ! ” he said. 

“ What is your pleasure, sir? ” Don Gregorio asked. 

“ Sir,” said Don Pedro, looking about for a seat, “ I have just arrived from 
Santiago.” 

Don Gregorio bowed again. 

“ On my departure from that citv, a banker in whose hands I had placed 
funds, gave me several bills ; among others this, addressed to Don Gregorio 
Peralta.” 

“ That is my name, sir ; be so kind as to hand it to me.” 

“ As you see, sir, the bill is for twenty-three ounces.” 

“ Very well, sir,” replied Don Gregorio, as he took it, “ allow me to examine 
it.” 

Don Pedro bowed in his turn, whilst Don Gregorio, approaching a flambeau, 
looked attentively at the bill of exchange, put it into his pocket, and took some 
money from his purse. 

Here are the twenty-three ounces, sir,” he said. 

The spy took them, counted the gold pieces, examining them attentively, 
and then put them into his pocket. 

“ It is very singular sir,” he said, just as the two gentlemen thought they 
were about to be relieved of his presence. 

“What is it?” asked Don Gregorio. “Do you not find the amount 
right ? ” 

“ Oh, pardon me, perfectly right ; but,” he added, with a slight hesitation, 
“ I thought you had been a merchant ? ” 

“ And what leads you to think otherwise ? ” 

“ Because I see no desks.” 

“ They are in another part of the house, ’ Don Gregorio replied. “ I am a 
private trader.” 

“Oh, very well, sir.” 

“ And, if I had not thought you had pressing need of the money ” 

“ Very pressing! ” the other interrupted. 

“ I should have begged you to call again to-morrow.” 

And thereupon he waved his hand, rather haughtily, as dismissing him. 
Don Pedro retired, visibly disappointed. 

“ That is a double-faced fellow, I am sure,” said Don Gregorio. ‘ I should 
not wonder if he were a spy of the general.” 

“ Oh, I know him ! ” Don Tadeo replied. “ I have about me proofs of his 
treachery. He has been a necessary instrument ; at present he may injure 
us.” 

Don Gregorio drew from his pocket the bill which had been presented to 
him, and holding it to Don Tadeo — 

“ Look at this,” he said. 

This bill, payable at sight, appeared perfectly like others. It was drawn in 
the usual form : “At sight . please pay" 8 lc., &c. ; but, in two or three places, the 
p n, too hard, no doubt, had spluttered and formed a certain number of little 
black spots, of which some were almost imperceptible. Lt appeared that these 
black spots had a meaning for the two men ; for as soon as Don Tadeo had 
cast his eyes over the bill, he seized his cloak, and folded himself in it. 

“ It is Heaven that protects us,” he said; “we must go thither without 
delay.” 

“ That is my opinion, likewise," Don Gregorio replied, holding the bill to 


7o 


The Adventurers . 


the light, and burning it. The two men took each a long dagger and a brace 
of pistols, which they concealed under their clothes. They pulled the flaps of 
their hats over their faces, and, wrapping themselves up to the very eyes, 
they descended into the street. 

They walked on for a long time, turning round at intervals to ascertain if 
they were followed, plunging bv degrees into the lowest quarters of the city, 
and at length stopped at a house of mean appearance, from which issued 
the loud but not very melodious strains of music eminently national. 

This house was a chingana, a name which has no equivalent in French or 
English. A Chil an chingana presents so eccentrically droll an appearance 
that it would defy the pencil of Callot. 

Let the reader figure to himself a low room, with smoky walls, the floor of 
which is but beaten earth, and rendered filthy by the detritus left by the feet of 
incessantly arriving and departing visitors. In the centre of this den, lighted 
only by a smoky lamp called a candil, by which it is impossible to distinguish 
more than the shadows of the customers, are seated four men upon stools. Two 
of them are twanging wretched guitars, which have lost most of their strings, 
with the backs of their hands ; the third plays the tambourine with his thumbs 
upon a crippled table, striking it with all his might ; whilst the fourth rolls be- 
tween his hands a piece of bamboo six feet long, split into several - strips, which 
yield the most discordant sound that can possibly be imagined. The four 
musicians, not content with the formidable ciatter made by their instruments, 
shout, at the very top of their voices, songs which we can neither venture to 
repeat nor translate. 

Twice or thrice in the course of an evening, it may happen that some of the 
guests, more heated than the rest, or seized by the demon of jealousy, take it 
into their heads to quairel. Then knives are drawn from the polena, ponchos 
are rolled round the left arm to serve as bucklers, the music ceases, and a circle 
is formed round the combatants. The sanguinary contest begifis, and when 
one of the combatants has fallen, he is carried into the street, and the music is 
resumed. 

It was in front of one of these establishments that the chief of the Dark 
Hearts and his friend had stopped. Pulling up the folds of their cloaks so as 
to completely conceal their faces, they entered. In spite of the pestilential 
atmosphere which nearly choked them, they passed unnoticed through the 
drinkers, and gained the further end of the room. The cellar-door stood ajar; 
they opened it softly, and disappeared down the steps. After descending ten 
of these, they found themselves in a cellar, where a man, leaning over a barrel, 
said, without interrupting his work — 

“ Would you like some aguardiente de pesco, some mescal, or some 
chiea ?” 

“ Neither the one nor the other,” Don Tadeo replied; “we wish for some 
French wine.” 

The man sprang up as if moved by a spring. The two adventurers had put 
on their masks. 

“ Do you wish to have it white or red ? ” the man asked. 

“ Red — a« red as blood,” said Don Tadeo. 

“Of what year?” the unknown rejoined. 

“Of 'hat vintaged on the 5th of April, 1817.” 

“ Then you must come this way, gentlemen,” the man replied, with a respect, 
ful bow; “the wine you do me the honour to call for is extremely valuable ; it 
is kept in a separate cellar.” 

“ To be drunk at Martinmas,” Don Tadeo remarked. 


How to Cook an Egg. 71 


The man, who seemed only to wait for this last reply to his question, smiled 
with an air of intelligence, and laid his hand lightly on the wall. A stone 
turned slowly round u )on itself, without the least noise, and ooened a passage 
to the conspirators, which they immediately entered, and the stone returned to 
its place. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

HOW TO COOK AN EGG. 

Abandoning for a time Don Tadeo and his friend, we will request the reader 
to follow us back to tne tribe of the Great Hare. The looked-for morrow was 
a great day for the tribe, a day expected with impatience by all housekeepers, 
who were about to learn how to discover, to use Valentine’s word, a new dish. 
As soon as it was daylight, men, women, and children assembled on the great 
square of the vill age, and formed numerous groups, in which the merit of the 
unknown dish about to be revealed to them was discussed. 

The Parisian was already at his post, standing in an open spot, in the middle 
of the square, watching with a laughing eye the anxious or incredulous expres- 
sion by turn displayed upon the Indian faces. A table, which was to serve for 
his culinary preparations, a lighted brasier, upon which boiled an iron pot filled 
with water, a kitchen-knife, an enormous frying-pan, found I know not where, 
a sort of tub, a wooden spoon, some parsley, a bit of bacon, some salt, 
some pepper, and a basket full of fresh eggs, had been prepared at his 
desire. 

All eagerly looked for the arrival of the apo-ulmen of the tribe, with which 
the exhibition was to commence. A kind of dais had been erected for him in 
front of the operator, and when he had taken his lighted calumet, he bent a 
little on one side, and whispered a few words in the ear of Curumilla, who 
stood respectfully beside him. The ulmen bowed, came down from the dais, 
went straight tp the Parisian to tell h;m he might begin, and then resumed his 
post. 

Valentine returned the salutation of this master of the ceremonies, took off 
his poncho, which he folded up and laid carefully at his feet, and turning up 
his sleeves above his elbows with the studied grace of a performer, he leant 
slightly forward, placed his right hand upon the table, and, assuming the tone 
of a vendor of quack medicines who boasts of the efficacy of his nostrums to 
gaping clowns, he thus commenced his demonstration in a loud voice and with 
a perfectly clear utterance — • 

“ Illustrious ulmens, and you redoubtable warriors. In the beginning of 
time the world did not exist ; water and clouds, which continually clashed 
against each other in space, then formed the universe. When Pillian created 
the world, as soon as at his voice man had issued from the bosom of the red 
mountain, he took him by the hand, and, pointing to all the productions of the 
earth, the air, and the water, he said to him — ‘ Thou art the king of creation: 
consequent'/, anima s, plants, and fishes all belong to thee, and are, each in 
proportion with its strength, instincts, or conformation, to minister to thy wel- 
fare and thy happiness in the world in which I have placed thee; thus the 
horse shall bear thee with fiery speed across the deserts ; fleecy llamas and sheep 
clothe thee with their wool, and nourish thee with their succulent flesh.* When 
P Ilian had analysed, one after the other, the divers qualities of the animals, 
before proceeding to the plants and fishes, he stopped at the hen. Piliian took 


The Adventurers. 


*> i 

i 


2 


her by the wings, and showing her to man. sajd — * Here is one of the most 
useful’ animals I have created for thy service ; boiled in a pot, the hen will afford 
thee an excellent broth ; roasted, its white flesh Will acquire a delicious flavour; 
of her eggs thou canst make omelettes with herbs, omelettes with mushrooms, 
omelettes with ham, and, above al i others, with bacon. If thou art ind s posed, 
and solid food should be too heavy for thy weak stomach, thou canst boil her 
eggs in the shell, and then thou wilt say something, indeed ! ’ 

“ Without further prelude, I am going to have the honour of producing be- 
fore you a boiled egg 1 Listen to me ; it is as simple as saying good day. In 
order to enjoy a boiled egg, two things are necessary — in the first place, a » 
egg, and then some boiling water ! You take the egg in your fingers thus, 
you uncover your saucepan, you place the egg in a spoon, and deposit it care- 
fully in a saucepan, where you allow it to boil gently three minutes. Mind, 
three minutes, neither more nor less : pay attention. Tnere it is ! ” 

The ac ion suited the word ; the tnree minutes were past. Valentine took 
out the egg, beheaded it, sprinkle 1 a little salt on it, and presented it to the 
ulmen with some long strips of maize bread. All this was performed with the 
most imperturbable seriousness, amidst the profound silence of the attentive 
crowd. 

The apo-ulmen proceeded to taste this wonderful egg with the most delibe- 
rate gravity. 

“ Wah ! it is good ! verv good ! ” he cried. 

Valentine returned to his brasier with a modest smile, and set about boiling 
e ggs, which he distributed among the ulmens and principal warriors, who 
quickly mSgled their felicitations with those of the apo-ulmen. 

From that moment the Indians were believers — the most incredulous were 
convinced, and all awaited with impatience the continuation of his ex- 
periments. 

“ Listen to me ! ” he continued, striking a sharp blow on the table with the 
knife he held in his hand ; “ listen to me, but, above all, observe closely how 
I proceed. A boiled egg was child’s play to me, but the omelette requires to be 
considered seriously, and executed with care, in order to obtain that finish, that 
smoothness, flavour, and perfection so much orized by real judges. I am about 
to make a bacon-omelette, and when I name that, I name the most exquisite 
dish in the world ! To make a bacon-omelette, I must have bacon, eggs, salt, 
pepper, parsley, and some butter — there they are, as you see, all on that table. 
Now I will mix them.” 

Then he commenced a monster bacon-omelette, of at least sixty eggs, while 
continuing his explanation with inexpressible freedom and copiousness. The 
interest of the Indians was warmly excited, their enthusiasm betraying itself by 
shouts, leaps, and laughter ; but it was carried to its height, and the stamping, 
crying, and screaming became terrific, when the Puelches saw Valentine seize 
the long handle of the frying-pan \yith a firm grasp, and toss the omelette three 
different times into the air, without any apparent effort, and with the style and 
ease of a finished cook. When the omelette was done, the. Frenchman placed 
it upon a dish, taking care to double it with the talent which cordons bleus alone 
possess, and was then preparing to carry it smoking to the apo-ulmen, but he, 
enticed by the flavour of the boiled egg, and with appetite excited to the highest 
pitch, spared him that trouble ; for he fo got all decorum, and rushed towards 
the table, followed by the principal ulmens of the tribe. The success of the 
Parisian was enormous. Never, in the history of the divine art, did a cook 
obtain such a glorious triumph! Valentine, with the modesty peculiar to man 
of real talent, stole away from the honours they wished to pay him. 


The Sun Tiger. 


73 


On the morrow of this eventful day, at the moment when the young men were 
about to leave the quarters they inhabitated in common, their host presented 
himself, followed by Curumilla. The two chiefs saluted them, sat down upon 
the beaten earth which served instead of flooring, and lit their pipes. 

“ Are my pale brothers still resolved to leave us ?” 

“ Yes,” replied Louis. 

“ Has Indian hospitality been wanting towards them ? ” 

“ So far from that, chief,” the young man said, “ you have treated us like 
children of your own tribe.” 

'* Then why leave us ? ” Trangoil-Lanec asked ; “ we know not what we lose.” 

“ You are right, chief ; but you know we came into this country for the purpose 
of visiting Antinahuel,” Louis observed. 

“ And does my golden-haired brother,” for so he called Valentine, “ absolutely 
wish to see him ? ” 

“Absolutely,” replied the young man. 

“ He shall see him,” replied Trangoil-Lanec. 

44 Good ! ” said Valentine. “ In that case we will set out to-morrow.” 

“ My brothers shall not go alone.” 

44 What do you mean by that ? ” Valentine asked. 

“The Indian soil is not safe for pale-faces.” 

“ My brother has preserved me a friend,” said Curumilla; “I shall follow 
him.” 

“ You cannot think of such a thing, chief,” Valentine remarked. “ We are 
travellers whom chance knocks about at its pleasure ; we know not what destiny 
has in reserve for us, nor whither it will conduct us.” 

“ What does it signify? ” Curumilla replied ; “ where you go, we will go.” 

“ Oh! ” Louis exclaimed, warmly, “ it is impossible! your friends, your wives, 
and your children ! ” 

“ Our wives and children will be taken care of.” 

“ My friends, my good friends,” said Valentine, with emotion, “ you are 
wrong ; we cannot impose such a sacrifice upon you.” 

“ We will follow our p ile brothers,” Trangoil-Lanec said in a tone that 
admitted of no reply; “ my brothers are not acquainted with the lianas; four men 
are a force in the desert — two men are dead.” 

The Frenchmen contested the matter no longer; they accepted the offer of the 
ulmens, and did so the more readily, because they plainly perceived what an 
immense advantage these men would be to them. 

After repeated farewells to these worthy people, the four travellers directed 
Iheir course towards the tolderia of the Black Serpents. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE SUN TIGER. 

In the state of anarchy in which Chili was plunged, parties were numerous, and 
tvery one was manoeuvring as skilfully as possible to gain possession of power. 
General Bustamente aimed at nothing less than the protectorate of a confede- 
ration similar to that of the United States, which, then but little understood, 
dazzled his ambition. 

The Dark Hearts, on their side, wished that the government should adopt 


74 


The Adventurers . 


measures of a rather democratic nature, but they had no intension to overturn it 
for thev were persuaded that a revolution could only be prejudicial to the nation 
Besides General Bustamente and the society of ihe Dar;< Hearts, a third party, 
more powerful, perhaps, than the two first, was at work silently, but active. 
This party was represented by Antinahuel. We have said that from its 
geographical position this little insignificant republic is placed like a wedge in 
the Chilian territory, which it separates sharply in two. This position gave 
Antinahuel immense power. 

He wanted a plausible pretext for keeping his Utal- Mapus under arms, with- 
out inspiring the Chilians with mistrust: and this pretext General Bustamente 
and the Dark Hearts supplied him with by their preparations. No one could 
be surprised, for this reason a time of peace at seeingin the toq ai gather together a 
numerous army on the Chilian frontiers, since either party flattered itself that this 
army was destined to aid its cause. The conduct of the toqui was, therefore, 
most skilful ; for he not only inspired mistrust in no one, but, on the contrary, 
gave hopes to all. 

Things \yere at this point when Dona Maria came to the tolderiaof the Black- 
Serpents, to visit the friend of her childhood. As soon as she awoke, the linda 
gave orders for her departure. 

“ Is my sister going to leave me already ? ” said Antinahuel, in a tone of mild 
reproach. 

“ Yes,” Dona Maria replied*; '* my brother knows that I must reach Valdivia 
as quickly as possible.” 

The chief did not press her stay; a furtive smile played round his lips. 

“ Did not my brother say he should be soon in Valdivia? ” she asked. 

“ I shall be there as soon as my sister,” he replied. 

“ We shall see each other again, then ? ” 

“ Perhaps we may.” 

“ We must ! ” 

“ Very well,” the chief replied, after a moment’s pause ; “ my sister may depart 
— she shall see me again.” 

“Till then, farewell, then,” she said, and rode away. 

She soon disappeared in a cloud of dust, and the chief returned thoughtfully 
to his toldo. 

“ Woman,” he said, to his mother, “ I am going to the great tolderia of the 
pale-faces.” 

“ I heard everything last night,” the Indian woman replied, sorrowfully; “my 
son is vvrong.” 

“ Wrong 1 how, or why ? ” he asked passionately. 

“ My son is a great chief ; my sister deceives him, and makes him subservient 
to her vengeance. The young white girl has a right to the protection of my 
son.” 

“ I will protect the Pearl of the A -des.” 

“ My son forgets that she saved his life.” 

“ Silence, woman ! ” he shouted, in a passiona ,a ‘-o-'v 

The Indian woman held her peace, but signed d - ; > . . 

The chief summoned his warriors, and selecting from among them a score 
upon whom he could place reliance, ordered them to be ready to follow him 
w thin an hour. He then threw himself upon a bench, and sank into serious 
reflections. Suddenly a great noise was heard from without, and the chief 
sprung from his recumbent position. He was surprised to see two strangers, 
mounted upon excellent horses and preceded by an Indian, advancing towards 
him. These strangers were Valentine and Lou.a. 


Tht Sun Tiger* 




Valentine, on leaving the village of the Puelches, had opened the letter 
addressed to himself, and placed in his hands by the major-domo, with a 
recommendation not to open it till the last minute. The young man was far 
from expecting the contents of thi • strange missive. 

“ Here, read this, Louis,” he said, “ who knows but that this singular letter is 
the first step to our fortune ? ” 

Like all men in love, Louis was sceptical upon every subject that did not bear 
some relation to his passion. 

“ Politics burn the fingers.” he said. 

“ Yes, of those who don’t know how to handle them,” Valentine replied. 
“ Now, it is my opinion that in this country, in which it has pleased fate to 
drop us, the most promising element of fortune, happens to be those very 
politics.’” 

“ I must confess, my friend, that I care very little for these Dark Hearts.” 

“ I do not share your opinion at all ; I believe them to be resolute, intelligent 
men.” 

“ Much good may it do them ! But of what consequence is that to us French- 
men ? ” 

“ More than you may think for; and I am determined, immediately after my 
interview with this said Antinahuel, ta go directly to Valdivia.” 

“ As you please,” said the count, carelessly. “ As you wish it we will go 
thither ! only I warn you that we shall risk our heads. But I wash my hands of 
the matter beforehand.” 

“ I will be prudent, caramba ! My head is the only thing I can call my own,” 
Valentine replied, laughing, “and be assured I will not risk it for nothing.” 

“ Well, it may be ome interesting; we travel partly for instruction.” 

“ Bravo ! that’s the way in which I like to hear a man speak.” 

Trangoil-Lanec and Curumilla were too prudent to venture to let Antinahuel 
know of the friendship which bound them to the two Frenchmen. Without 
suspecting the reasons which induced their friends to present themselves to the 
toqui, they foresaw that a day might come wnen it would be advantageous that 
their relations should be unknown. 

The reception given to the Frenchmen was most friendly ; for in time of peace 
the Araucanos are exceedingly hospitable. As soon as they perceived the 
strangers, they crowded round ; and as all the Indians speak Spanish, Valentine 
had no difficulty in making himself understood. One warrior, more polite than 
the rest, took upon himself to be their guide through the village. He led them 
to the toldo of the chief, in front of which were drawn up twenty horsemen, 
armed, and apparently waiting. 

“ That is Antinahuel, the great toqui of the Innpire-Mepus,” said the guide 
emphatically. 

‘Thank you,” said Valentine; and the two Frenchmen advanced rapidly 
towards the toqui. 

“ Eh, eh ! ” Valentine said, in a subdued voice, to his companion ; “ here is a 
man with a good bearing.” 

‘‘Yes,” Louis replied, in the same tone, “but he has a contracted brow, a 
sinister look, and compressed lips.” 

“ Bah ! ” said Valentine, “ you are too difficult by half ; did you expect to find 
«tn Apollo Belvedere P ” 

“ No ; but I should like a little more open frankness in his look.” 

“ Well, well, we shall see.” 

* I do not know why, but that man produces the effect of a reptile upon me.’* 

M Oh, nonsense ! you are too impressionable. I dare say the man, who, I 


The Adventurers . 


7 « 


cannot deny, has the air of a rascal, is, at bottom, one of the best fellows in the 
world.” 

“ God grant I may be deceived ! but I experience, on seeing him, a feeling for 
which I cannot account.” 

“ All folly 1 What relations can vou ever have with this individual ? We 
are charged with a' mission to him ■ who knows whether we may ever see 
him again ? ” 

“ You are right ; and I do not know what makes me think as I have said.” 

The adventurers were at that moment in front of the ciiief’s toido. Antina- 
huel stood before them ; and, although appearing to be giving orders, examined 
them attentively. He stepped towards them quickly, and said, in a pleasant 
tone — 

“ Strangers, you are welcome to my toido. Your presence rejoices my heart.” 

“Thanks for the kind words of welcome you address to us, powerful chief,” 
Valentine replied. “ The persons who sent us to you assured us of the kind 
reception we might expect.” 

“ If the strangers comeon the part of my friends, that is a further reason why 
I should endeavour to make their abode here agreeable.” 

The two Frenchmen bowed, and alighted from their horses. At a sign from 
the toqui, two peons led the horses away. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

THE MATRICIDE. 

Many of the richest Chilian farmers would have found it impossible to display 
greater luxury than the chief exhibited when his caprice or his interest led 
him to do so. On the present occasion, he was not sorry to show strangers 
that the Araucanos were not so barbarous as their arrogant neighbours wished 
it to be supposed. At the first glance, Antinahuel had discovered that his 
guests were not Spaniards ; but, with the circumspection which forms the 
foundation of the Indian character, he confined his observation to his own 
breast. 

The Frenchmen followed him in, and with a gesture he requested them to be 
seated. Peons placed a profusion of cigars and cigarettes upon the table. In 
a few minutes other peons entered with the mate. Then, without the silence 
being broken — for the Araucanian laws of hospitality require that no question 
should be addressed to strangers until they think proper to speak themselves — 
each sipped the herb of Paraguay while smoking. 

“ I thank you, chief, in the name of myself and my friend, for your cordial 
hospitality,” began Va entine. 

“ Hospitality is a duty.” 

“But,” replied Valentine, “ as I have 'been given to understand that the 
chief is about to set out on a journey, I do not wish to detain him.” 

“ I am at the orders of my guests; my journey is not so pressing as not 
to be put off for a few hours.” 

“ I thank the chief for his courtesy, but I hope he will soon be at liberty.” 

Antinahuel bowed. 

“ I have a letter for the chief.” 

( * Ah 1 ” the toqui exclaimed, with a singular intonation. 


The Matricide. 


77 


“Yes,” the Frenchman continued ; “ and that letter I am about to have the 
honour of handing to you.” 

And he put his hand to his breast to take out the letter. 

“ Stop ! ” said the chief, turning towards his servants, “ leave the room.” 
The three men were left alone. 

“ Now you may give me the necklace,” he continued. 

The chief took it, looked carefully at the superscription, turned the paper in 
all directions in his hand, and then, with some hesitation, presented it to the 
young man. 

“ Let my brother read it,” he said ; “ the whites are more learned than we 
poor Indians.” 

Valentine gave his countenance the most silly expression possible. 

“ I cannot read this,” he said. 

“ Does my brother then refuse to render me this service ? ” the chief pressed 
him. 

“ I do not refuse you, chief, only I am prevented doing what you request by 
a very simple reason.” 

“ And what is that reason ? ” 

“ It is that my companion and I are both Frenchmen.” 

“ Well, and what then ? ” 

“ We speak a little Spanish, but we cannot read it.” 

“ Ah ! ” said the chief, in a tone of doubt. 

“ Hem ! that is possible.” 

He then turned towards the two Frenchmen, who, on their part, were, in 
appearance, impassive and indifferent. 

“ Let my brothers wait an instant,” he said ; “ I know a man in my tribe 
who understands the marks which the whites make upon paper.” 

“ Why the devil did you refuse to read the letter?” Louis asked, after the 
chief left the apartment. 

“ In good truth,” Valentine replied, “ I can scarcely tell you why ; but what 
you said of the expression of this man’s countenance, produced a certain effect 
upon me. He inspires me with no confidence, and I am not anxious to be in 
the depository of his secrets.” 

“ Yes, you are right ! Hush 1 I hear footsteps.” 

And the chief re-entered the room. 

“ I know the contents of the letter,” he said ; “ if my brothers see the man 
who charged them with it, they will inform him that I am setting out this very 
day for Valdivia.” 

“ We would, with pleasure, take charge of that message,” replied Valentine; 

“ but we do not know the person who gave us the letter.” 

The chief darted at them a stolen and deeply suspicious glance. 

“ Good ! will my brothers remain here then ? ” 

“ It would give us infinite pleasure to pass a few hours in the agreeable 
society of the chief, but with us time presses.” 

“ My brothers are perfectly free ; my toldo is open for those who leave it, 
as well as for those who enter it. In what direction are my brothers 
going ? ” 

“ We are bound for Concepcion.” 

“ Let my brothers go in peace then ! If their course lay towards Valdivia, 

I would have offered to journey with them.” 

“ A thousand thanks, chief, for your kind offer ; unfortunately we cannot 
profit by it.” 

The three men exchanged a few more words of courtesy and left the toldo. 


78 


The Adventurers, 


The Frenchmen’s horses had been brought round ; they mounted, and, after 
having saluted the chief once more, they set off. As soon as they were out of 
the village, Louis, turning to Valentine, said — 

“ We have not an instant to lose. If we wish to reach Valdivia before that 
man, we must make all speed. Who knows whether Don Tadeo may not be 
waiting ? ” 

They soon rejoined their friends, who looked for them anxiously, and all 
four set off at full speed in the direct on of Valdivia. Antinahuel accompanied 
his guests a few paces out of his tolJo. When he had taken leave of them, he 
followed them with his eyes as far as he could see them, and when they dis- 
appeared at the extremity of the village, he returned, saying to himself — 

“ It is evident to me that these men are deceiving me; their refusal to read 
the letter was nothing but a pretext.” 

When he arrived in front of his toldo, he found his mosotones mounted, 
and awaiting his orders. 

“ I must set out at once,” he said ; “ I shall learn all yonder, and, perhaps,” 
he added, in a low voice, “ perhaps I shall find her again. If Dona Maria 
breaks her promise, and does not give her up to me, woe, woe be to her ! ” 

He raised his head, and saw his mother standing before him. “ What do 
you want, woman ? ” he asked. 

“ My place is near you when you are suffering, my son,” she mildly replied. 

“ I suffering ! You are mad, mother ! age has turned your bra n ! Go back 
into the toldo, and, during my absence, keep a good watch over all that belongs 
o me.” 

“ Are you, then, really going, my son ?” 

“ This moment,” he said, and sprang into his saddle. 

“ Where are you going ? ” she asked. 

“ What is that to you ? ” he replied. 

“ Beware ! my son ; you are entering on a bad course. Guerubu, the spirit of 
evil, is master of your heart.” 

“ 1 am the best and sole judge of my actions.” 

“ You shall not go 1” she exclaimed. 

The Indians collected round the speakers looked on with mute terror ; they 
were too well acquainted with the vio.ent and imperious character of Antina- 
huel not to dread something fatal. 

The brows of the chief lowered, his eyes gleamed like lightning, and it 
was not without a great effort that he mastered the passion boiling in his 
brea^c. 

“ I will go ! ” he said, trembling with rage ; “ I will go, if I trample you 
beneath my horse’s hoofs I ” 

The woman clung convulsively to the saddle, and looked her son in the 
face. 

“ Do so,” she cried; “for, by the soul of your father, I swear I will not stir, 
even if you pass over my body ! ” 

The face of the Indian became horribly contracted ; he cast around a glance 
which made the hearts of the bravest tremble with tear. 

“Woman! woman!” he shouted, grinding his teeth with ra°-e • “get < 
of my way 1 ” 

“ 1 will not stir, I tell you ! ” she repeated. 

“ Take care I take care I ” he said again ; “ I shall forget you are .. 
mother I ” * J 

“ I will not stir ! ” 

A nervous tremor shook the limbs of the chief. 


The Justice of the Dark Hearts. 


79 


“ If you will have it so,” he cried, in a husky, but loud voice, “your blood be 
upon your own head ! 

And he dug the spurs into the sides of his horse, which plunged with pain, 
and then sprung foiward like an arrow, dragging along the poor woman, whose 
body was scon but ore hi ge wound. A cry of horror burst from the quivering 
lips of the terrified Indiars. After a few minutes of this senseless course, 
during which she had left fragments of her flesh on every sharp point of the 
road, tfie strength of the Indian woman abandoned her; she left her hold of 
the bridle, and sank dying. 

“ Oh ! ” she said, in a faint voice, and a look dimmed by agony, “ my un- 
happy son ! my unhappy ” 

Site raised her eyes towards heaven, clasped her mangled hands as if to 
offer up a last prayer, and fell back. 

She died pitying the matricide, and pardoning him. The women of the 
tribe took up the body respecifully, and carried it, weeping, into the toldo. At 
ihe sight of the corpse, an old In iian shook his head. 

“ Antinahuel has killed his mother! Pi lian will avenge her I’* 

And all bowed down their heads sorrowfully. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE JUSTICE OF THE DARK HEARTS. 

Don Tadeo and his friend Don Gregorio were introduced into a subterraneous 
apartment, the entrance to which was concealed in the wall. The door closed 
immediately after them ; the two men turned round sharply, but all signs of 
an opening had disappeared. The place was admirably chosen for a meeting 
of conspirators. It was an immense apartment, which must have served for a 
long time as a cellar, as was made evident by the essentially alcoholic emana- 
tions still floating ;n the air; the w 11s were low and thick, and of a dirty red 
colour; a lamp with three jets, hanging from the roof, far from dispersing the 
darkness, seemed only to render it in a manner visible. In a recess stood a 
table, behind which a man in a mask was seated near to two empty seats. 
Men enveloped in cloaks, and all wearing black velvet masks, were gliding 
about in the darkness. 

Don Tadeo and his friend exchanged a glance, and, without speaking a 
word, proceeded to take their places. As soon as they were seated, a change 
came over the meeting : the low whispering which had been heard till that 
moment ceased. All the conspirators gathered in a single group in front of 
the table, and with arms crossed upon their chests, waited. The man who 
before the arrival of L>on Tadeo had appeared to preside over the meeting 
arose, and said — 

“ On this day the seventy-two ventas of the Dark Hearts, spread over all th< 
territories of tt.e republic, are assemoled in counc 1 In all of them the taking 
up of arms will be decreed. Everywhere men, faithful to the good cause, are 
preparing to commence the struggle with Bustamente. Will you all, comrades, 
who are here present, when the hour strikes, descend frankly and boldly into the 
arena? Answer,” he resumed; “ what will you do ?” 

“ We will die 1 ” the band of conspirators murmured. 

:t That is well, my brothers,” Don Tadeo said, rising. “ I expected no less from 
you. ! have long known you ail, and teit that I could depend upon you — i, whom 


8c 


The Adventurers . 


none of you know. These masks which conceal you from one another, are but 
transparent gauze for the King of Darkness ! I have sworn that you shall live 
as free men, or that I will die ! Before twenty-four hours have passed away, 
you will hear the signal you have so long waited for, and then will commence 
that terrible struggle which ran only end in the death of the tyrant. Let the 
chiefs of sections draw near.” 

Ten men left the ranks, and placed themselves silently ten paces frorr the 
table. 

“ Let the corporal of sections answer for all,” said Don Tadeo. 

“ I am the corporal,” said one of the men ; “ the orders expedited from tbf 
Quinta Verde have been executed ; all the sections are warned.” 

“ So far well ! How many men have you at your disposal ? ” 

“ Seven thousand three hundred and seventy -seven.” 

“ That is well ! we have even more than we want. Return to your places.' 1 

The chiefs of sections drew back. 

“Now,” Don Tadeo continued, “before we separate, I have to call down 
your justice upon one of our brothers, who, having entered deeply into our 
secrets, has been false to the society several times for a little gold. The cir- 
cumstances are of the utmost importance ; one word — a single word — may ruin 
our cause and us 1 What chastisement does this man deserve ?” 

“ Death ! ” the conspirators responded, coolly. 

“ I know this man,” Don Tadeo continued ; “ let him come forth from the ranks.” 

No one stirred. 

“ This man is here — I can see him ; for the last time, let him step forth.” 

The conspirators cast suspicious glances at each other; the assembly seemed 
moved by an extreme anxiety; the man, however, upon whom the King ot 
Darkness called, persisted in remaining silent. 

Don Tadeo waited for an instant, and then made a signal. Don Gregorio 
rose and advanced towards the group of conspirators, which opened at his 
approach, and laid his hand roughly on the shoulder of a man who had instinc- 
tively retreated before him. 

“ Come with me, Don Pedro,” he said, and he dragged rather than led him to 
the table. 

The guilty spy was seized with a convulsive trembling, his teeth chattered, 
and he fell upon his knees. 

“ Mercy, my lord, mercy ! ” 

Don Gregorio tore off his mask, and revealed the face of the spy. 

“ Don Pedro,” Don Tadeo said, in a stern voice, “ you have several times 
sought to sell your brothers ; it was you who caused the death of the ten patriots 
upon the piaee of Santiago ; it was you who betrayed the secret of the Quinta 
Verde to Bustamente; this very day, you held a long conversation with General 
Bustamente, in which you agreed to deliver up to him to-morrow the principal 
chiefs of the Dark Hearts.” 

The miserable wretch had not a word to say in his defence. 

“ Is this true?” Don Tadeo reiterated. 

“It is true,” he murmured. 

“ You acknowledge yourself guilty P ” 

“ Yes,” he said, with a heart-stifling sob ; “ but grant my life, noble seigneur, 

and I swear 

“ Silence ! ” 

The spy was struck with mute despair. 

“ You have heard > companions and friends ; what punishment does he deserve 
for having sold his brothers ? ” 


The Treaty of Peace. 


8i 


“ Death ! ” replied the Dark Hearts. 

“ In the name of the Dark Hearts, of whom I am king, I condemn you, Don 
Pedro Saldillo, to death, for treachery and felony towards your brethren. You 
have five minutes to make your peace with Heaven.” 

He placed his watch upon the table, and drawing a pistol from his belt, cocked 
it deliberately. The sharp noise of the hammer made the condemned man 
shudder with fear. The spy cast around wild, despairing glances, but beheld 
nothing but angry eyes gleaming upon him through hideous masks. 

“ The five minutes are past,” said Don Tadeo, in a firm voice. 

“A few minutes more ! a few minutes, my lord!” the spy implored, wringing 
his hands in despair. “ I am not prepared ; you cannot k 11 me thus ! ” 

Without appearing to hear him, Don Tadeo lifted his pistol, and the miserable 
culprit rolled upon the ground. 

“ Oh ! ” he cried, as the pistol was aimed, “ be accursed, ye assassins ! ” 

The conspirators stood cold, impassive spectators of the scene. As scon as the 
stern act of justice was completed, at a signal from the chief, several men opened a 
trap in the floor which covered a hole half filled with quick lime; the body was 
thrown into it. 

“ Justice has been done, brothers,” said Don Tadeo, solemnly ; ” go in peace, the 
King of Darkness watches over you.” 

The conspirators bowed respectiully, and disappeared, one after the other, without 
Uttering a word. 

“ Oh ! ” said Don Tadeo, “ shall we always have thus to combat treachery ? ” 

“ Courage ! my friend ; you have yourself said, in a few hours war will commence 
In the face of day.” 

“ God grant I may not be deceived.” 

The two conspirators regained the chlngana, in which the dancing, laughing, and 
drinking were going on with undiminished spirit; they passed through so as not to 
be observed, and came out into the street. They had hardly walked fifty steps when 
they were joined by a man, who proved to be Valentine Guillois. 

“ God be praised for bringing you here so opportunely ! ” said Don Tadeo. 

”1 hope I am punctual,” the Parisian remarked, with a gay laugh. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE TREATY OF PEACE. 

General Bustamente had come to Valdivia under the pretence of renewing the 
treaties which existed between the republic of Chili and the Araucanian Confederation. 
This pretext was excellent in the sense that it permitted him to concentrate a consi- 
derable force in the provinces, and gave him, besides, a plausible reason ;or receiving 
the most powerful Ulmens of the Indians, who would not fail ro come to the meeting. 

'11. is ceremony generally takes place in a vast plain situated upon the Araucanian 
territories. By a curious coincidence, the pretext of the general suited equally well 
the interests of the three factions. The Dark Hearts had skilfullv profited by it to 
prepare rhe resistance they meditated, and Antinanuel, feigning to wish to pay the 
greatest honours to the war minister of the president of the republic, had collecied a 
real army of his best warriors. 

'1 he plain on which the ceremony was to take place was vast, covered with high 
grass, and belted by mountains verdaut with lofty trees. The piaiu crossed bjr 


82 


Tile Adventurers. 


woods at)d lines of apple-trees, loaded with fruit, was divided in two uy a meandering 
river, which flowed gently along. 

The sun was rising majestically in the horizon when a measured noise of tinkling 
bells proceeded from a w iod of apple-tre s, an ! a troop of half a score mues, led by 
the m >ther mare, debouched into the plain. These mules carried divers objects for 
an encampment, provisions, and even some bales of clothes and linen. At twenty 
paces behind the mules, ca ne a rather numerous troop of horsemen. 

This party were Don Tadeo, his friends the Frenc ;m n, the Indian Ulmens, with 
Dona Rosario, and three servants. By a strange coincidence, at the same time that they 
were arranging their camp, another party nearly as numerous established theirs on 
the opposite bank of the liver. Ti e leader of this was Dona Maria. As frequently 
happens, it h id pleaseJ chance to bring into propinquity irreconcilable enemies. 

Don Tadeo had no susp ckn of this dangerous proximity, or he would probably 
have done everything in his power to a\od it. He had cast a vacant glance at the 
caravan opposite to him, without taking any further heed of it. Dona Maria, on the 
contrary, knew perfectly we 1 what she v\as about, and had placed hersed where she 
was with the skill of an able tactician. 

The Puelches, who had descended from their mountains in great numbers, had 
passed the night in making joyous libations around their camp-fires; many of them 
were sleeping in a state of complete intoxication ; nevertheless, as soon as the arrival 
of the minister of the Chilian lepublic was announced, they all sprang up and began 
to dance. On one side arrived General Bustamente at a canter, surrounded by a 
bril.iant staff, all glittering With gold lace, and followed by a numerous troop of 
lancers ; whilst on the other side came, at a gallop, the four Araucano Toquis, fol- 
lowed by the principal Ulmens, and a gieat number of mosotones. 

These two troops, which hastened to meet each other amidst the vivas and cries 
of joy of the crowd, raised immense clouds of dust. The Araucanos in particular, 
who are excellent horsemen, indulged in equestrian eccentricities, of which tne su- 
mach vaunted Arab fantasias can give but a faint idea. 

As soon as the two troops met, the chiefs dismounted and ranged themselves, the 
Ulmens, armed with their long silver-headed canes, behmu Antirjahuel, and the 
three other Toquis and tiie Chilians behind General Buotamente. It was tne first 
time the Tiger Sun and the general had met. 

After exchanging a few salutes, impressed with a rather suspicious cordiality, the 
two bands retrograded fiotn each offier a tew paces, to afford room for the commis- 
sary-general and four Capitanos dc Amigos. Tnese officers are what they cali in 
the United States Indian agents; they serve as interpreters and agents to the 
Araucanos for trade. It must be observed that all these Indians speak Spanish per- 
fectly well ; but 'hey never will use it in meetings. These Capitanos de Amigos are 
much beloved and respected. They arrived, leading a score of mules loaned with 
presents, destined by the President of the Repuolic for the Ulmens. For, be it noted, 
wnen Indians treat with Christians, they consider nothing settled till they have 
rec ived presents. The Chilians, who had long been accustomed to Aiaucanian 
habits, had taken good care not to forget this important condition. 

While the comnnssary-geueral was distributing the presents, General Bustamente 
repaired to a chapel where a priest celebrated mass. Alter mass, the speeches com- 
menced. Tnese speeches, which were very long, resulted in mutual assurances that 
they were satisfied with the peace which reigned between the two peoples, and that 
they would do all in their power to maintain it as long as possible. 

‘‘ Now,” said the general, “ if my brothers, the great chiefs, will follow me, we 
will plant the cross.” 

• No,” Antinahuel replkd, with a honied smile, “ the cross must not be planted 
hi front of the loroo.” 


Tlie AvducUou. 


8j 


“ Why not ? ” the general asked, with astonishment. 

“ Because,” the Indian replied, “ the words we have exchanged must remain 
buried where they have been pronounced.” 

“ That is just I” said tne general, bowing his head in sign of assent. “ It shall 
be done.” 

Antinahuel smiled proudly. 

The Indian peons then went to fetch from the chapel, upon the floor of which it 
lay, a cross of at least thiity feet in heignt. All the chiefs and the Chilian officers 
ranged themselves around it ; the troops forming a vast circle at a respectful distance. 
After the pause of an instant, of which the priest took advantage to bless the cross, it 
was planted in the giound. At the moment it was about to gain its upiight position, 
Antinahuel interposed. 

“ Stop ! ” he said. “ Peace is well assured between us, is it not ? ” he asked. 

“ Yes, certainly,” the general replied. 

“ All our words are buried under this cross ? ” 

“All of them.” 

*“ Cc ver them wtih earth then,” he said to the peons. 

When this ceremony was accomplished, Antinahuel caused a young lamb to be 
brought, which the machi slaughtered. All the Indian chiefs bathed their hands in 
the still warm blood of the quivering animal, and daubed the cross with hieroglyphic 
signs. In conclusion, the Araucans and Chilians discharged their tire-arms in the 
air, and the ceremony was ended. General Bustamente then coming, passed his arm 
through the chief’s in a friendly manner, saying in an ingratiating tone — 

“Will not my brother, Antinahuel, come for an instant in my tent, to taste a glass 
of aguardiente tie Pisco and take mate ? — he would render his friend happy.” 

“ Why should I not ? ” the chief replied, smiling. 

“ My brother will accompany me I ” 

“ Lead on, then.” 

Both moved oft', chatting upon indifferent subjects, directing their course towards 
the general’s tent, which had been pitched within gun-shot of the place where tha 
ceremony had taken place. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

THE ABDUCTION. 

Whit st the ceremony we have described was being accomplished, a terrible event 
was passing not tar from it. The three parties which divided Chili, and aimed at 
governing it, had, as if of one accord, chosen the day for the lenewal of the treaty to 
throw off the mask and give their partisans the signal of revolt. Don Tadeu, who 
feared everything trom Dona Maria and the general’s spies, had consented, but with 
regret, that Rosario should accompany him to the plain, to be present at the 
ceremony. 

Dona Rosario, to tell the truth, had only consulted her love in the rcque t she had 
made to her guaidian ; the desire of seeing, unobserved, for a few hours, the object 
of her affections, l ad dictated it. Don Tadeo, who could not on any account be pre- 
sent at the ceremony, being obliged to conceal himself, took the two young Frenchmen 
aside as soon as his little encampment was arranged. It was then about seven 
o’clock in the morning, and the crowd began to flock to the plain. The King of 
Daikness cast a prudent and searching look around. 

“ Caballeros,” he said, “ since 1 have had the honour of knowing you, 1 have con- 


64 


The Adventurers. 


cealed nothing from you, and you know all mv secrets. I must now leave this spot 
instantly, and return to Valdivi i. It is in that city that the first blow will be struck 
within a few ho irs, against the tyrant. I am not willing to expose the young lady 
whom vou know to chance. I confide the care of her to one of you, the other will 
accompany me. In the event of any mischance happening to me, I will place in his 
hands a paper, wh ch will inform you both of my intentions. Which of you, gentle- 
men, will take charge of Dona Rosario during my absence? ” 

“ Be at ease, Don Tadeo, go where your duty calls you,” Louis answered ; “ I 
swear that while 1 live no danger, either near or distant, shall assail her ; to reach 
her it must pass over my de id body.” 

“ Receive my warmest thanks, Don Louis,” the Dark Heart replied, affected by 
the manner of the Frenchman ; “ I place implicit faith in your words.” 

“ I will watch over her,” the young man said, quietly. 

“Once again I thank you.” 

Don Tadeo left the young men, and returned to the tent where Dona Rosario, 
reclining in a hammock, was gently swinging herself, and indulging in perhaps 
pleasing reveries. 

“ Do not distu.b yourself, my child,” said Don Tadeo ; “ I have but two words to 
say to you.” 

“ I am always attentive to you, my kind friend.” 

“ I have come ro bid you farewell.” 

“ Farewell, Don Tadeo 1 ” she exclaimed, in great terror. 

“ Oh ! comfort yourself, darling 1 only for a few hours.” 

“Ah 1 that is all ! ” she said, with a smile. 

“ Certainly, all ! There is in this neighbourhood an exceedingly curious grotto. 

I was foolish enough to let some words slip concerning it this morning before Don 
Valen'ine, and that demon of a Frenchman insists upon my showing it to him.” 

“ You have done quite right,” she said, eagerly ; “ we are under great obligations 
to those two Frenchme i.” 

“That it would have been uncourteous on my part to refuse him,” Don Tadeo 
interrupted, “ therefore I have not. We shall set off directly. Be as cheerful as you 
can during our abence, d-.ar child.” 

“ I will endeavour,” she said, absently. 

“ Besides, I shall leave Don Louis to take care of you.” 

The young girl blushed as s;.e stammered — -“Come back soon, dear friend.” 

“Time to go and return, that is all ; adieu, then, darling.” 

Don Tadeo lett the tent, and rejoined the young men. 

“ Adieu, Don Louis l ” he said. “Are you ready, Don Valentine? ” 

“Ready!” the Frenchman replied, laughing ; “ Caramba ! I should be in des- 
pair at losing such an opportunity of judging whether you undeistand getting up 
revolutions as well as we Frenchmen do.” 

“ Oh l we are but young at the work yet,” Don Tadeo remarked. 

“ Good-bye, Louis, for a time,” said Valentine, pressing his friend’s hand ; and 
stooping towards his ear, he added — “ Be thankful to your stars.” 

The young man only replied by shaking nis head and sighing deeply. A 
peon had brought the horses for the two Chilians and the Frenchman. They 
set off at a quick pace, and were quickly lost in the high grass. Louis returned 
pensively to the camp, where he found Dona Rosario aione in her tent ; the 
two Indian chiefs having gone in the direction of the chapel, where, mingled 
with the crowd, they might be present at the ceremony. 

The young girl was seated on a heap of dyed sheepskins in front of the 
tent, dreamily looking out. Dona Rosario was a charming girl of sixteen, slender, 
fragile, and delicate, and small in person. Of a rare kind of beauty in America 


The Abduction . 


85 


she was fair ; her long silky hair was of the colour of ripe golden corn ; her 
blue eyes, in which were reflected the azure of the heavens, had that melan- 
choly, dreamy expression which we attribute only to angels, and young girls 
who are beginning to love; her nose, with its pinky nostrils, was inclined to be 
aquiline ; while h?r mouth, rather stern in expression, with rosy lips set off by 
teeth of dazzling whiteness, and her skin of pearl-like purity, altogether made 
her a charming ere iture. 

The noise of the approaching young man’s steps roused her from her reverie. 
She turned her head in the direction, and look at him with inexpressible 
sadness, although a faint smile played upon her lips. 

“ It is I,” said the count. 

“ I knew of your coming,” she replied, in a sweetly-toned voice. “ Oh 1 
why did you return to me at all ? ” 

“ Be not angry with me. I endeavoured to obey you ; but destiny has 
decided otherwise.” 

She gave him a long and eloquent look. 

“Unfortunately,” he continued, “you are condemned for some hours to 
endure my presence.” 

“ I must resign myself to it,” she said. 

The young man imprinted a burning kiss upon the white soft hand he held. 

“ And so we are left alone ! ” she said gaily. 

“ Good heavens 1 yes, nearly so,” he replied. “ The Indian chiefs and the 
peons, overcome by curiosity, have joined the crowds.” 

“ We are alone, in the midst of ten thousand people ! ” she said, smiling. 

“ That is all the better; every one is engaged with his own affairs, without 
troubling himself about those of others ; and we can speak to each other with- 
out fear.” 

“ True,” she said, thoughtfully, “it is frequently amidst a crowd that we find 
the greatest solitude.” 

“Does not the heart possess that great faculty of being able to isolate itself 
when it pleases? 

“ And is not that faculty often a misfortune ? ” 

“ Perhaps it is,” he replied, with a sigh. 

“But how comes it?” she said. “Pardon my giddy impeitinence ! how 
comes it, I say, that you, of whom I sometimes caught a glimpse at Paris, 
during my short sojourn there, and who then enjoyed, if I was not mistaken, a 
brilliant position, should meet me here? ” 

“ Alas ! my history is that of many, and may be summed up in two words — 
weakness and ignorance.” 

“ That is but too true; that is the history of nearly all the world, in Europe 
as well as in America.” 

At this moment a great noise reached them from the camp. Dona Rosirio 
and the count were placed so as not to be able to see what was passing in the 
plain. 

“ What is that noise ? ” she asked. 

“ Probably the tumult of the festival.” 

* To what purpose ? Those cries and that tumult terrify me.” 

“ And yet I thought it was you who asked Don Tadeo to see this.* 

“ A silly girl’s caprice,” she said. 

“ But was it not Don Tadeo’s intention to ” 

“ Who can tell Don Tadeo’s intention ?” she interrupted, with a sigh. 

" He appears to love you tenderly ? ” Louis hazarded. 

'* Sometimes I am on the point of believing so ; he pays me the most 


86 


The Adventure 7 >\ 


delicate attentions, shows me the tenderest care ; then at other times he appears 
to endure me with pain.” 

“ Singular conduct ! ” the count observed; “this gentleman is your relation, 
there can be no doubt.” 

“ I do not know,” she replied ingenuously ; “ when alone and pensive, my 
thoughts stray back to my early years. 1 have some vague remembrance of a 
young and handsome woman, whose black eyes smiled upon me constantly, and 
whose rosy lips lavished affectionate kisses upon me ; but as far back as I can 
recollect, I find nobody but Don Tadeo watching over me, everywhere and 
always.” 

“ Perhaps, then,” said the count, “ he is your father.” 

“ Listen. One day, after a long and dangerous illness, and in which Don 
Tadeo had night and day watched over my pillow for more than a month, 
happy at seeing me restored to life, for he had been fearful he should lose me, 
he smiled upon me tenderly, kissed my brow and my hands, and appeared to 
experience the most lively joy. 4 Oh ! ’ I said, as a sudden thought rushed 
across my mind ; ‘ oh ! you are my father! none but a father could devote him- 
self with such abnegation for his child.’ Don Tadeo arose, his countenance 
was iividly pale, his features were frightfully contracted. 4 Your father ! 1 ? 

Dona Rosario,’ he cried, in a husky voice, 4 you are a silly, poor child ! Never 
repeat those words again ; your father is dead, and your mother likewise. I 
am not your father — never repeat that word — I am only your friend.’ ” 

A silence ensued ; the two young people were pensively thoughtful : the 
simple and touc ing recital of Don Rosario had strongiy affected tne count. 
At length he said, in a tremulous voice — 

“ Let me love you, Dona Rosario.” 

The maiden sighed. 

“ To what could that love lead, Don Louis ? ” she said sadly, “ to death, 
perhaps.” 

“ Oh 1 ” he exclaimed madly ; 44 and it would be welcome, if it came in your 
defence.” 

At this very instant, several individuals rushed into the tent. Quick as 
thought, the count threw himself before the young girl, a pistol in each hand. 
But, as if Heaven had decreed that he should accomplish the wish he had just 
uttered, before he had time to defend himself he was struck to the earth. In 
falling, he saw, as if in a dream, Dona Rosario seized by two individuals, who 
fled away with her. With an incredible effort, the young man succeeded in 
getting on his knees. He beheld the ravishers hastening towards their horses. 
He took aim at the flying wretches, crying with a faint voice, 44 Murder! 
murder ! ” and fired. 

One of the ravishers fell, uttering an imprecation of rage. The count, 
exhausted by the superhuman effort he had made, staggered like a drunken 
man ; the blood gushed from his ears, his sight grew dim, and he roiled sense- 
less upon the ground. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

THE PROTEST. 

The three travellers returned with such soeed to Valdivia, that it scarcely took 
tnera an hour-and-a -half to traverse the distance which divided the plain from 


The Protest. 


8 / 


the citv. They passed on their way General Don Pancho Bustamente, at the 
head of a detachment of lanceros, and attended by a numerous staff ; but the 
Dark Hearts, employing their usual precautions, escaped notice. 

•' Look,” said Don Tadeo, “ at our worthy general ; he fancies himself 
already protector.” 

“ Yes,” said Don Gregorio, “ but between the cup and the lip he may find 
there is a mischance.” 

It was striking ten as they entered Valdivia. The city was almost deserted ; 
for all who were not detained at home by urgent business had gone to the 
plain. 

But Valdivia was at this moment oppressed by the weight of an unknown 
apprehension. The few citizens who remained in the city hastened to regain 
their homes. Numerous patrols of cavalry and infantry traversed the streets 
in all directions : cannon rolled along with portentous noise, and were planted 
at the corners of all the principal places. At the cabildo a crowd of officers 
and soldiers went in and out with a busy air; couriers succeeded each other 
unceasingly, and after having delivered the orders with which they were 
charged, set off again at full speed. 

At the same time, at the corners of streets, men, wrapped in large cloaks, 
and with hats pulled down over their eyes, harangued the workmen and the 
;a'!o’-s of the port. In these groups, arms, gunbarrels, bayonets, and pike- 
head; began to glitter in the sun. When these mysterious men were satisfied 
that they had accomplished tneir task in one place, they went to another. 
Immediately after their departure, as if by magic, barricades were raise 1 behind 
them, and impeded the passage. As soon as a barricade was terminated, an 
energetic-looking sentinel, a workman with bare arms, but with a callous 
hand, brandishing a gun, an axe, or a sabre, placed himself at its summit, and 
bade all who approached go another way. 

On entering the city, Don Tadeo and his companions found themselves com- 
pletely barricaded. Don Tadeo smiled. The three men cleared the barricades, 
which were thrown open at their approach, and the sentinels bowed to them as 
they passed. We have forgotten to say that all three were masked. If nowand 
then a stray citizen ventured to ask timidly who those three masked men were, 
he received for answer, “ It is the King of Darkness and his lieutenants ; ” and 
the citizen, trembling with fear, crossed himself, and went his way hastily. 

The three men thus arrived at the entrance of the Plaza Mayor. There two 
pieces of mounted cannon barred their passage, and the artillerymen were at 
their guns waiting, match in hand. At a sign from Don Tadeo. the officer who 
commanded approached him. He leant down upon the neck of his horse and 
said a few words in a whisper ; the latter bowed, and, turning to his soldiers, 
said — 

“ Let these gentlemen pass.” 

It was towards the fountain in the centre of the Plaza Mayor that Don Tadeo 
conducted his companions. A hundred individuals, scattered here and there, 
and who appeared to expect him, drew together at his approach. 

“ Well,” Don Tadeo asked Valentine, “ how do you like our ride ? ” 

“ Delightful,” the other replied, “ only I fancy we shall shortly come to 
blows.” 

“ I hope so,” said the conspirator, coolly. 

“ Ah ! ah ! ” the young man remarked, “ all is for the best, then ? ” 

“You are about to be present at an interesting spectacle.” 

The individuals assembled near the fountain surrounded them with evevy 
mark of the profoundest respect 


The Adventurers , 


8A 


“Gentlemen,” said Don Tadeo, “the struggle is about to commence. I 
desire at length that you should know me.” 

And he threw off his mask. A burst of enthusiasm broke from the ranks of 
the conspirators. “ Don Tadeo de Leon ! ” they cried with astonishment, 
mingled with a soecirs of veneration. 

“Yes, gentlemen,” Don Tadeo replied, “the man whom the creatures of 
the tyrant condemned to death, and whom God has miraculously pre- 
served.” 

All the conspirators pressed tumultuously round him. 

“ Is every one at hii post ?” he asked. 

| “Yes.” 

“ Are arms and ammunition distributed ?’* 

“To everybody.” 

“ Are all the barricades completed ?” 

“ All.” 

“That is well. Now wait.” 

And quiet was re-established. 

All these men had known Don Tadeo for a long time ; they appreciated his 
character at its true value; they had already vowed to him a boundless friend- 
ship ; and now they knew that Don Tadeo and the King of Darkness were the 
same person, they were ready to lay down their lives for him. 

“ Attention 1 ” Don Tadeo commanded, as a regiment of infantry formed. 

“Eh! eh !” Valentine murmured, with that mocking short laugh that was 
peculiar to him ; “ this is going on capitally 1 Caiamba 1 we shall soon have 
some fun I ” 

The gates of the cabildo were thrown open, and a general, followed by a 
brilliant staff, took his station on the top step of the great staircase ; next several 
senators made their appearance in full costume, and formed a group around him. 
At a signal from the general, the drums heat for a time. When all was quiet, a 
senator, who held a roll of paper in his hand, came forward a few steps. 

“ Bah ! ” said the general, seizing his arm, “ why lose your time in reading 
that rubbish ? ” 

The senator, who asked no better than to be freed from the dangerous 
commission with which, very much against his will, he had been charged, rolled 
up his papers. The general assumed a commanding posture, placed his hand 
upon his hip, with the point of his sword on the ground, and said in a voice 
audible in every corner of the place — 

** People of the province of Valdivia, the sovereign senate, assembled in 
congress at Santiago de Chili, has unanimously passed the following resolu- 
tions : — - 

“ ist. The various provinces of the Chilian republic shall be composed of 
independent states united under the title of the Confederation of the United 
States of South America. 

“ 2 nd. The valiant and most excellent general, Don Pancho Bustamente, has 
been elected Protector of the Chilian Confederation.” 

“ Long live the Protector! ” 

The officers grouped round the general, and the soldiers drawn up in the 
place shouted — , 

Long live the Protector!” 

But the people were mute. 

“Hum!” trie general murmured to himself, “they do not display much 
enthusiasm.” 

A man came foiward from the group collected round the fountain, and 


Spaniard and Indian , 


S9 


advanced boldly to within twenty paces of the soldiers. This man was Doa 
Tadeo de Leon ; his countenance was calm. 

“ What is your will ? ” the general shouted. 

“ To reply to your proclamation.’’ 

“ Speak, I hear you,’’ the general replied. 

Don Tadeo bowed with a signific int smile. 

“In the name of the Chilian people,” he said, “ the senate of Santiago, 
composed of creatures sold to the tyrant, is declared traitorous to its conntry.” 

“ Miserable fellow ! what do you dare to say ? ” 

“ No insults, if you please. Allow me to terminate the answer I have to give 
you,” Don Tadeo replied. 

The general, involuntarily brow-beaten by the heroic courage of this man, 
who, alone, unarmed before a tuple row of muskets, had dared to speak in this 
loud firm tone, bit the pommel of his sword with rage. 

“ In the name of the people,” Don Tadeo, still calm and stoic d, continued, 
“Don Pancho Bustamente is declared as a traitor to his country. Liberty! 
Chili ! ” 

“ Liberty ! Chili ! ” the populace assembled on the square shouted with the 
greatest enthusiasm. 

“ Oh, this is too audacious,” the general cried, pale with anger. “ Soldiers, 
seize that rebel ! ” 

Several soldiers stepped forward ; but quicker than thought, Don Gregorio 
and Valentine had sprung to Don Tadeo’s side, and dragged him back. 

“ Cordieu ! ’’cried Valentine, pressing his hands enough to crush them, “ you 
are a troublesome man.” 

“ In the name of the Protector,” said the general, “ I command that rebel to 
be given up ! ” 

Hisses and hootings were the only reply. 

“ Fire ! ” the general commanded. The muskets were lowered, and a 
formidable discharge pealed like thunder. Several men fell, killed or 
wounded. 

“Chili! Liberty! down with the oppressor!” the people shouted, arming 
themselves with everything they could lay their hands on. A second discharge 
resounded, followed closely by a third. The ground was in an instant strewed 
with the dead and dying ; but the patriots showed no disposition to disperse; on 
the contrary, under the incessant fire of the soldiers, they organised a resistance, 
and soon replied by shots to the platoon firing. The combat became mutual ; 
the revolution had commenced. 

“ Hum ! ” the general muttered to himself, “ 1 have undertaken a rather 
awkward mission.” 


CHAPTER XXX. 

SPANIARD AND INDIAN, 

It was not through fear that General Bustamente had absented himself from 
Valdivia at the moment when one of his lieutenants so boldly proclaimed him 
from the top of the steps of the cabildo, before the populace. No, General 
Bustamente was one of those sold ers of fortune of whom so many are found 
in America, accustomed to set his life upon the cast of the die. He had hoped, 
by the means of the forces he had concentrated in this remote province of the 


90 


77 / e Adventurers. 


Republic, that the inhabitants, taken unawares, would only oiTer an insignificant 
resistance. 

Unfortunately for General Bustamente, the Dark Hearts had got wind of this 
project, and had countermined it by taking advantage of the opportunity 
offered them to unmask their own batteries. We have seen under what con- 
ditions the struggle commenced. The general, ignorant of what was passing, 
felt in a state of perfect security. As soon as he was in his tent, he let fail the 
curtain wnich closed it behind them ; and, by a gesture, invited the toqui to be 
seated. 

“ Sit down, chief,” he said. 

“ 1 am at the orders of my white brother,” the Indian replied, with a 
bow. 

The general attentively examined the man before him ; he endeavoured to 
read on his countenance the various feelings that acted upon him. 

“ Let us speak frankl , loyally, and as friends who wish no better than to 
understand each other plainly,” he said. 

Antinahuel bowed reservedly. The general continued : 

“ At this moment the people of Valdivia are constituting me, by acclamation, 
protector of a new confe eration, formed of all the states.” 

“ Good ! ” said the chief. 

The Chilians are tired of the continual agitations which disturb the country; 
thev have forced this heavy burden upon me.” 

These words were pronounced in a hypocritical tone of self-denial, of which the 
Indian was not the dupe. A smile flitted across his lips. 

“ To be brief.” he continued, assuming a more decided and abrupt manner, 

are you prepared to keep your engagements ? ” 

“ W hy should I not keep them ? ” Antinahuel remarked. 

“ Will you tfiarch with me?” 

“ Let mv father order, I will obey.” 

“ Come,” said the general, angrily, “ let us put an end to this; I have not 
time to enter into a contest of wits with you.” 

“ I do not understand my fattier,” Antinahuel replied. 

“We shall never get to the end, chief?” the general said, “ if you will not 
answer me categorically.” 

“ 1 listen to my father; let him ask, I will reply.” 

“ How many men can you have under arms within twenty-four hours P” 

“ Ten thousand,” said the chief. 

“ Then do you accept my proposals or not ? ” 

1 he chief appeared to reflect for an instant. 

“ Well ! ” the general exclaimed, impatiently, “time presses.” 

“ That is true 5 1 wiH, therefore, go and command a counsel, and submit the 
Words of my father to them.” 

The general with difficulty suppressed his anger. 

“You must, doubtless, be joking, chief,” he said, “your words cannot be 
serious.” 

“ Antinahuel is the first toqui of his nation,” the Indian replied, haughtily • “ he 
never jokes.” : ’ 

“ But you must give me your answer now, in a few minutes ! ” cried the 
general; “ who knows whether we may not be obliged to march within an 
hour?” 

“ It if ™y dut y> as much as it is my father’s, to enlarge the territory of my 

At this moment the gallop of a ho-se was heard approaching ; an orderly 


Spaniard and Indian 


91 


officer appeared. The face of this officer was bathed with perspiration, arid 
Spots of blood stained his uniform. 

“ General ! ” he said, breathlessly. 

“ .Silence ! ” the latter hissed, pointing to the chief. The general turned to- 
wards Antinahuel. 

Chief, ’ he said, “ I have orders to give to this officer — pressing 
orders.” F 5 

11 Good ! ” replied the chief ; “ my father need not inconvenience himself ; I 
can wait.” 

And after bowing, he left the tent slowly. 

“ Oh 1 ” said the general to himself. “ you demon ! ” 

But perceiving that anger was making him forget himself, he turned towards 
the officer. 

" Well, Diego,” he said, “what news have you ? ” 

“ Bad,” the officer replied, shaking his head ; “ the people, excited by the 
Dark Hearts, have rebelled.” 

“ Oh ! ” the general cried, “ shall I never be able to crush them ? What has 
taken place ? ” 

“ The people have raised barricades; and Don Tadeo de Leon is at the head 
of the movement.” 

“ Don Tadeo de Leon 1 ” said the general. 

“ A part of the troops, seduced by their officers, who have sold themselves to 
the Dark Hearts, have passed over to their side.” 

“ We have not an instant to lose.” 

“ No ; though the soldiers who have remained faithful to you are fighting 
li k , • lions.” 

“ Malediction ! " the general howled; “ I will not leave stone upon stone of 
that accursed city 1 ” 

“ Yes, but in the first place, we must reconquer it, general, and that will prove 
rather a rough job, I promise you,” replied the old soldier. 

“ Very well 1 ” said Bustamente ; “ let ‘ boot and saddle ’ be sounded.” 

Don Pancho was a prey to the most violent rage ; for several instant; he 
stamped about his tent, like a wild beast in its cage. This unexpected re- 
sistance, in spite of all the measures of precaution he had taken, exasperated 
him. Suddenly the curtain of his tent was raised. “ Ah ! chief, is that you? 
Well?” 

“ I saw the chief come out, and I thought that perhaps my father would not 
be sorry to see me.” 

“ And you were right ; I am delighted to see you ; lorget aa we have said; 
I accept all your conditions.” 

“Yes. Including Valdivia ? ” 

“ That above all 1 ” said the general. 

“ Ah 1 ” 

“ Yes, and as that province has revolted, in order to be able to give it to you, 

I must bring it back to its duty, must I not ? ” 

“ To be sure you must ! ” 

“ Well, as I have it at my heart to fulfil my engagements to you, I am going 
to march against that city. How many horsemen have you at hand ? ” 

“ Twelve hundred.” 

•* Good ! ” said the general, “ they will be more than we shall want.” 

“ The tr ops are ready,” said Diego, entering the tent. 

“ To saddie, then ; let us be gone 1 let us be gone 1 And you, chief, will you 
not accompany us ? ” 


92 


The Adventurers* 


u Let my father move onward ! my mosotones and I will tread in his steps 
quickly.” 

Ten minutes later, General Bustamente, with his soldiers, was again gal- 
loping along the road to Valdivia. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

IN THE MOUNTAIN. 

Dona Rosario was so terrified, and in such mortal anguish, that she fainted. 
When she recovered her senses, it was dark night. For several m mites her 
confused thoughts whirled about in her brain ; and she endeavoured, but for a 
long time in vain, to recover the violently broken thread of her ideas. At 
length light returned to her mind. 

“ My God ! my God ! what has happened to me ? ” 

She then opened her eyes, and cast around a despairing look. As well as she 
could judge, she was lying upon the back of a mule, between two bales ; a cord, 
which passed round her waist, prevented her from rising, but her hands were 
free. The mule had that rough, irregular trot, peculiar to its species, which 
made the young girl suffer terribly at every step. Some horse-clothes had been 
thrown over her, no doubt to protect her from the heavy dews of the night, or 
perhaps to prevent her from making out what road she was going. Dona 
Rosario, gently, and with great precaution, slipped the covering down from her 
face; after a few efforts her head was completely free, f-he looked around her; 
but all was dark. As well as she could make out, she was surrounded by 
Indians. 

The rather numerous party — it apparently consisted of a score of indi- 
viduals- -followed a narrow road deeply inclosed between two abrupt mountains, 
the rocky masses of which, throwing their shadow over the road, augmented 
the darkness. This road rose with a gentle ascent; and the horses and mules, 
probably fatigued with a long journey, travelled at a foot-pace. The young 
girl, scarcely recovered from her fainting, had not been able to judge of the 
time that had elapsed since her abduction ; and yet, by collecting her remem- 
brances, and thinking at what hour she had been the victim of this odious 
attempt, she calculated that twelve hours must have passed away since she was 
made a prisoner. 

She was ignorant of whom she was with. Many times, it was true, Don 
Tadeo had spoken to her of an inveterate enemy, of a woman whose hatred 
watched her incessantly, ready to sacrifice her on the first favourable oppor- 
tunity. But who was this woman ? Was she in her hands at that moment P 

These thoughts and many others came in crowds to assail the maiden’s be- 
wildered mind. This uncertainty was for her an atrocious torture ; truth would, 
perhaps, have been a consolation. Man is so constructed, that what he is most 
in dread of is the unknown. 

The caravan still proceeded ; it had left the ravine, and was climbing a path 
traced along the edge of a precipice, at the base of which could be heard the 
dull murmur of invisible water. At times, a stone, half-broken beneath the 
hoof of a mule, became detached, and rolled with a sinist- r noise down the side 
of the mountain, to engu f itself in the waters, into which it plunged with a dull 
plash, the sound of which ascended from the abyss. 


On the Watch . 


9* 


The maiden cast an anxious but cautious look around her ; but the flame of 
the torches agitated by the wind would not permit her to see anything but the 
dark outlines of some buildings and the shadows of several individuals, who 
flitted about her, with cries and laughter — -nothing more. The people of the 
escort were busily employed in unsaddling the horses and unloading the mules, 
amidst cries and oaths, and did not appear to bestow the least attention upon 
the young girl. 

At length she felt that some one took the mule by the bridle, and she heard 
him shout in a hoarse voice, Arrea ! — the word with which the arrieros are 
accustomed to excite their beasts. What was the meaning of the halt, then ? 
Why did a portion leave her? 

Her uncertainty was not of long duration ; at the end of ten minutes at most, 
the mule stopped again, and the man who led it approached. This man wore 
an old straw Panama hat, the large brim of which, pulled down over his face, 
prevented her distinguishing his features. At the sight of this individual, the 
young girl felt an involuntary shudder run through her frame. The peasant 
withdrew the covering which enfolded her, untied the cord which bound her, 
and taking her in his arms, carried her with as much ease as if she had been a 
child, into a detached cabin. 

The interior of this cabin was dark. The young girl was laid upon the 
ground with a care and attention she did not expect. At the moment when he 
let her sink softly down from his arms to the ground, the man bent his 
head down towards her, and in a voice as inaudible as a breath, he whispered, 
“ Courage! and hope !” 

As soon as he was gone Dona Rosario sprang upon her feet. The two words 
pronounced by the unknown had sufficed to restore her presence of mind, and 
remove all her terrors. 

The place in which she was confined was completely dark. At the first 
moment she in vain endeavoured to distinguish anything in this chaos; but, by 
degrees, her eyes became accustomed to the darkness, and, in front of her, she 
perceived a faint light, which flitted between the badly-joined boards of a door. 
Sue then, with great precaution, for fear of arousing her invisible guardians, 
and stretching out her hand to keep her from contact with any obstacle she 
could not see, advanced cautiously, and listening attentively, towards the side 
from which came the light — a light which attracted her as instinctively as a 
flame attracts the imprudent moth whose wings it burns. 


CHAPTER XXXII 

ON THE WATCH. 

What she heard, but still more what she saw, necessarily powerfully interested 
Dona Rosario. In a vast room, dimly lighted by one of those yellow candles 
wh.ch the Chilians call velas de cebo, fastened to the wall by means of a ring, 
a woman, still young, and very handsome, attired in a riding-dress of great 
richness, was seated on an ebony chair. With her right hand she played with 
a gold-headed whip, and was speaking in an animated tone to a man who 
stood hat in hand. This man, as well as Dona Rosario could make out, was 
the same who had carried her into the cuarto . The woman was no other than 
Dona Maria. 


94 


The Adventurers. 


Dona Maria's position threw the light of the candle full upon her face, and 
gave Dona Rosario an oppo tunity of distinguishing her features. She con- 
templated them with deep interest, for she felt instinctively that this woman 
was the enemy who, from her birth, had fatally followed her steps. 

The two speakers, who knew not that they were either watchei or overheard, 
resumed their conversation. Dona Rosario did not lose a single word. 

“ How is it,” said the Linda, “ that Joan has not come ? I expect him." 

“Joan sent me in his place.” 

The man replied with ill-dissembled embarrassment. 

“And by what right,” said the Linda, in a haughty tone, “does the fellow 
presume to confide to others the care of accomplishing the orders I give 
him P” 

“ Joan is my friend,” the man replied. 

“ What are the ties that unite you to me ? ” she asked. 

“ The mission you charged him with is accomplished.” 

“ Ay— but faithfully ? " 

“ The woman is there,” he said ; during the journey she had spoken to 
nobody. 

“ But why did Joan give up his place to you ? ” she continued. 

“ Oh ! ” the man said with a feigned bluntness, “ for a very simple reason ; 
Joan is at this moment attracted towards the plain by the black eyes of the 
wife of a pale-face, which sparkled like fire-flies in the ni^ht.” 

“ Well, then,” the Linda interrupted, stamping her foot with vexation, “ why 
does not the fool carry her off ?” 

“ I proposed that to him.” 

“ And what did he say ? ” 

“ He refused.” 

“Still,” she remarked, “all that does not tell me who you are." 

“ I ! I am the Ulmen in my tribe,” he replied. 

“Ah!” she said, with an air of satisfaction, “you are an Ulmen of the 
Puelches, are you ? Good ! ” 

“ I am the friend of Joan,” he remarked simply. 

“Do you know the woman whom you have brought here?” the Linda 
asked. 

“ How should I know her?” 

“ Are you ready to obey me in everything p” 

“ My obedience will depend on my sister.” 

- “ This woman .s my enemy,” said the Linda. 

“ Must she die ?” he asked roughly. 

“Oh, no!” she cried eagerly, “these Indians are brutes; they understand 
nothing of vengeance ! ” 

“ Let my sister explain ; I do not comprehend.” 

“ Death ! that is nothing.” 

“ White death may be so, but an Indian death must be called for many 
hours before it answers.” 3 

“ I wish her to live, I tell you ! ” 

“ She shall live. Ah I ” he added, “ the toldo of a chief is empty.” 

“ Oh ! oh ! ” the Linda interrupted ; “ have you no wives ?” 

“ They are dead.” 

“ And where is your tribe at this moment ?” 

“ Oh ! ” said the Indian, “ far from here — ten suns’ march at least ” 

There was a short silence, during which the Linda reflected. Dona Rosario 
redoubled her attention. 


On the. Watch 


95 


“ And pray.*' Dona Maria resumed, “ what great interest detained you on 
the plains near the sea-shore ? ” 

“ None; I c*me, as the other Ulmens did, to renew the treaties.’* 

" Had you i.j other reasons ? ” 

“ None at all.” 

“ Listen to me, chief. You have, doubtless, admired the four horses fastened 
at the gate of this house P ” 

“ They are noble beasts,” the Indian replied. 

“ Well, it only depends upon yourself that I should give them to you.” 

“ Oh ! oh ! ” he cried jo fully ; “ what must I do ? ” 

“Obey me,” said the Linda. 

“ Whatever I command you ?” 

“Whatever my sister commands.” 

“ That is well ; but remember, if you deceive me, my vengeance will be 
terrible.” 

“ Why should I deceive my sister ? ” 

“ Because your Indian race is so constituted — astute and roguish, ever ready 
to betray.” 

A sinister flash gleamed from his eye. 

“ My sister is mistaken ; tr e Araucanos are loyal.” 

“ We shall see,” she said coldly. “ Your name ?” 

“ The Musk Rat.” 

“ Very well ; listen, Musk Rat.” 

“ My ears are open.” 

“ This woman you brought here must never again revisit the shores of the 
sea.” 

“ She shall never see them again.” 

“1 do not wish her to die, understand that; she must suffer,” the Linda 
added. 

“ She shall suffer.” 

“Yes,” said Dona Maria, with sparkling eyes, “ I wish that, during a long 
course of years, she may suffer a martyrdom at every instant ; she is young, 
she will have time to call upon death to deliver her from her misery before it 
deigns to listen to her.” 

“ Yes,” said the Puelche, in a melancholy tone, “ I have heard of these men 
from the chiefs of my tribe.” 

“ That is it ! ” she said, with delight. “ Well, chief, do you think yourself 
able to traverse these vast deserts ? ” 

“ Why should I not ?” the Indian replied. “ Do there exist obstacles strong 
enough to resist the Araucano warrior in his course ? The puma is the king 
of the forests, the vulture that of the heavens; but the Aucas is the king of 
the puma and the eagle ; the desert is his.” 

“ Then my brother will accomplish this journey ? ” 

A disdainful smile played for an instant round the lips of the savage warrior. 

“ I will accomplish it,” he said. 

“ Good ! my bi other is a chief ; I perceive he is one now.” 

The Puelche bowed modestiy. 

“ My brother will go there, then, and when he arrives in the Chaco, he will 
sell the pale girl.” 

“ I will sell her,” replied the Indian. 

“ That is well 1 my brother will be faithful ?” 

“ I am a chief ; I have but one word, my tongue is not forked ; but why 
should I take this woman so far ? ” 


The Adventurers. 


<;6 


Dona Maria cast a p netrating glance at him. 

“ I only made a simple observation to my s ster ; it concerns me little, and 
she need not answer me if she does not think proper,” he said, with in- 
difference. 

The brow of the Linda became serene again. 

“The remark is just, chief; I w 11 answer it. Why take her so far, you 
asked me: because Antinahuel loves this woman — his heart is softened bv ner 
— and perhaps he will suffer himself to be moved by her prayers, and restore 
her to her family.” 

After uttering these words, Dona Maria arose, with head erect, sparkling 
eyes, and extended arm ; there was in her aspect something fatal and 
terrible. 

“ Go,” she cried, “ before she departs for ever, I will see this woman once — 
only once — and speak with her for a few minutes : bring her hither ! ” 

The Indian went out silently; this woman, so beautiful and so cruel, terrified 
him. 

Dona Rosario, on hearing this atrocious sentence pronounced against her, 
fell senseless to the ground. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

F C F. TO FACE. 

The door of the cuarto in which Dona Rosario was confined was thrown open, 
and the Puelche warrior appeared. 

“ Come with me ! ” he said, in a rough voice. 

Conscious of the inutility of a resistance which could only be dangerous to 
her amidst the bandits who surrounded her, and bowing her head with resig- 
nation, she followed. Dona Maria had resumed her place in the ebony chair. 
At the slight noise made by the footsteps of the young lady, she drew herself 
up ; a flash of hatred gleamed from her dark eyes. 

The two women examined each other intensely ; their looks crossed ; the 
hawk and the dove were face to face. A deathlike silence reigned in the 
apartment ; at intervals the wind came in gusts and dismal moanings, through 
the ill-joined boards of the doors, shook the old building to its foundation, and 
agitated the flame of the only candle that illumined the vast gloomy room in 
which the two women were. After a sufficiently long pause, the Linda, who, 
with that instinct which women possess in such a high degree, had examined 
in detail, one by one, the numerous beauties of the charming girl, spoke — 

Yes,” she said, in a hollow voice, “ yes, this girl is beautiful ; she has every- 
thing to make her an object of love — to see her must be to love her ; but,” she 
added, in a piercing, shrill voice, “ 1 have her at length within the power of 
my vengeance ! ” 

“What have I done to you, madam, that you should hate me thus?” the 
maiden asked. 

“ What have you done to me, silly creature ? ” the Linda cried, bounding uo 
like a wounded lioness, “what have you done to me?” and then added— 
“ Ah ! ah ! that’s true, yt u have done nothing to me ! ” 

“ Aias, madam ! I do not even know you; this is t..e first time I have been 
in your presence.” 


Face to Face. 


97 


‘'Yes, I allow it,” the Linda replied ; “you have done nothing to me , and, 
personally. I have nothing to reproach you with ; but, by making you suffer, 
learn that it is u ion him I avenge myself.” 

“ I do not understand what you mean, madam.” 

“ Senseless fool, do not play with the lioness who is ready to devour 
you. I am Dona Maria, whom they call the Linda ; do vou understand me 
now ? ” 

“ Not more than I did before, madam,” replied Dona Rosario ; “ I hav* 
never even heard that name.” 

“ Can that be true ?” she cried doubtingly. 

“ I swear it is.” 

Dona Linda strode about the apartment with hasty steps. Dona Rosario 
looked stealthily at this woman, without being able to account to herself for 
the emotion which her presence, and the sound of her voice, caused her to 
experience. 

“Oh!” murmured the Linda passionately, “what is going on with me? 
1 am weak enough to allow myself to be subdued by the tears of that paltry 
creature ! ” 

Like Indian warriors, who, when fastened to the stake of blood, sing their 
own exploits to encourage them to endure bravely the tortures which 
their executioners silently prepare, the Linda recalled the maddening remem- 
brance of all the outrages Don Tadeo had loaded her with. 

“ Listen to me, girl,” she said, “ this is the first and last time we shall be in 
the presence of each other. What you will learn will be hereafter, perhaps, a 
consolation to you, and help you to boar with courage the miseries I reserve 
for you.” she added. 

“ I will listen to you, madam,” Rosario replied meekly, “although I am 
certain that what you are about to say cannot render me guilty.” 

“ Do you think so? ’’the Linda said; “well the 1 , listen; we have time to 
talk. A woman,” the Linda continued, “ a young an i beautiful woman, more 
beautiful than you, fragile child of cities — a woman, I say, had married a man, 
also young, and handsome as the evil angel before his fall, who with per- 
fidiously golden words, by opening before her immense and unknown horizons, 
had so seduced her, the poor, poor girl, that in a few days he induced her to 
abandon the roof which had sheltered her infancy, and to which her aged father 
in vain recalled her up to the day of his death.” 

“ Oh, that is frightful,” cried Dona Rosario. 

“ Why so? he mariied her, so morality was satisfied, in the eyes of the world. 
This woman was pure, and could thenceforward m >ve with head erect before 
the crowd. But everything passes away in this world, and most quickly of all, 
the love of the most passionate man. Only a year after marriage this woman, 
alone in the most retired room of her dwelling, wept over the remembrance of 
her happiness. Her husband had deserted her ! A child born of this union, 
a little fair girl, a rosy-lipped cherub, whose eyes reflected the azure of the 
heavens, was the sole consolation which in her misfortunes was left to the poor 
abandoned mother. One night, when she was plunged in sleep, her husband 
stole like a thief into her house, seized the child, and disappeared.” 

“ And the mother?” Dona Rosario anxiously asked. 

“The mother,” she continued, in a low broken voice, “the mother was 
doomed never to see her child again. She never has seen her. Prayers, threats, 
everything in turn, have been employed without success. And now, this mother, 
who adores her child, and would sacrifice her life for her— this mother has 
vowed a hatred against this man. I am this mother ! and the man who 

D 


The Adventurers. 


9 s 


ravished from her all her happiness — the man whom she hates as she does the 
demon whose heart he bears, is Don Tadeo de Leon I ” 

“ Don Tadeo ! ” Rosario cried. 

“ Yes ! ” the Linda said furiously, “ yes, Don Tadeo, your lover ! ” 

The maiden sprang towards Dona Maria, and seizing her arm violently, cried 
indignantly — 

“ What have you dared to say? It is false, madam ! ” 

“ Can this be true? ” the Linda asked. “ Can I have been so grossly mistaken ? 
But then,” she added mistrustfully, “ who are you ? ” 

i: I will tell you who am, madam ! ” Risario replied. 

All at once the hasty gallop of several horses was heard from without, mingled 
with cries and oaths. 

“ Wnat can the matter be ?” said Dona Maria. 

"Oh!” said Dona Rosario, clasping her hands fervently; “oh, my God! are 
you sending me liberators ? ” 

“ You are not free yet,” the Linda said. 

The tumult increased greatly; the door, violently pushed from without, flew open, 
and several men rushed into the room. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

THE KEVOLT. 

The multiplicity of the scenes we have to describe, and the exigencies of our story, 
compel us to abandon Dona Rosario and the Linda, and return to Valdivia. Elec- 
tiified by the heroic conduct of the King of Darkness, the patriots fought with the 
greatest obstinacy. The Dark-Hearts appeared to have the gift of ubiquity ; their 
numbers increased, they were everywhere at the head of the insurgents, exciting them 
by gesture and vo.ce; but, above all, by their exam ole. Tne city was completely 
cut up by barricides, against which the few troops who remained faithful to 
G neral Bustamente sruggled in vain. 

The city was in the power of the insurgents; for as the b ittle from this moment 
was concentrated at one point, it was not difficult to foresee with which party the 
victory would remain. 

The general who commanded the garrison, and whom we saw upon the steps of 
the cabildo, read with so much arrogance the decree wnich changed the form of 
government, bit his lips with ra^e and performed prodigies of valour, to give Busta- 
mente time to arrive. As soon as he saw the turn things had taken, he sent off an 
express for the general with the u raost promptitude. This express was Diego. 

“ Lieutenant,” h;- said, in conclusion, “ you see in what a position we are; you 
must reach the general.” 

“ 1 will reach him, general ; be at ease on that head ! ” Diego replied 
intrepidly. 

“Anil will endeavour to hold out until your return.” 

Don Diego, before he finished speaking, had ridden desperately at the ranks of 
the insurgents, spurring on his horse, and waving hlj sword. Tne Dark-Hearts, 
astonished by such an attack on the part of a single man, at the first moment 
unconsciously opened their ranks before him as to a canister shot, incapable of 
resisting the impetuous shock of this apparently invulnerable demon wno mowed 
down all that came in his way. Diego skilfully took advantage o. the disorder 


The Revolt. 


99 


produced on the enemy by his furious assault ; he kept pushing- on, and, after 
incredible efforts, succeeded in getting- out of the city. 

The general did not delay his return -o Valdivia a minute, for he felt that success 
sould be an immense advantage to him. As a conqueror, his marc i to Santiago 
would be nothing but a triumph ; the authorities of the cities he passed through 
would ri\al each ether in tanging themselves beneath his standard; whereas, if 
he were forced to abandon Valdivia as a fugitive, he would be tracked like a wild 
beast, and obliged to seek safety in a prompt flight, either in Bolivia or Buenos 
Ayres. 

The horsemen advanced amidst a cloud of dust raised by their precip.tate course, 
rushing along the road like a whirlwind, and with a noise like thunder. Two lances* 
length in advance ol the soldiers, Don Pancho, bending over the neck of his horse, 
with pale brow and clenched teeth, galloped at full speed, keeping his eyes fixed 
upon the lofty steeples of Valdivia, whose dark shadows became more enlarged on 
the I orizon every minute. Within half a mile of the city he halted 1 is squadron. 

The troops brought up by the general were not numerous from the European 
pent of view, according to which we are accustomed to see great masses in conflict; 
thev, at most, did no: exceed eight hundred men. 

Don Panci o was a rough soldier, accustomed to the struggles of civil wars. 
Endowed with courage bordering on rashness, and devoured by ambition, he pre- 
pared to re-es'ablish his compromised affairs by an irresistible attack. The country 
in the neighbourhood of Valdivia is a real English garden, interspersed with thickets, 
apple-orchards, coj ses, and slender st earns ot water rippling away to the river. It 
was very easy for the general to conceal his arrival. Two soldiers were detached as 
scouts, in older to learn the state of things. At the expiration of a few minutes 
they returned. The outskirts of the city were deserted, the insurgents had driven the 
troops back into the centre, and, according to the scouts, with the imprudence of 
citizens metamorphosed suddenly inio soldiers, they had left no reserve, or even 
placed sentinels, to secure their rear against sui prise. 

Tire general cast fierce and desperate glances around him, looking, but unsuccess- 
fully, for a point of issue from the menacing forest of bayonets crossed before him, 
and which enclosed him as in a steel network. Some authors havs amused them- 
selves at the expense of the wars and battles < f the Americans, in which they say 
the two armies always take care io place rhemselves < ut of reach of cannon shot, so 
as never to have a single man killed. This pleasantry, which is in very bad taste, 
has assumed the proportions of a calumny. Thrice the soldiers rushed upon the 
insurgents, and thrice w’ere they repulsed with enormous loss. The battle was 
horrible, without mercy on either side; they fought hand to han foot to foot, breast 
to breast, to the last breath, only falling to die. The troops, decimated by this 
frightful carnage, gradually gave ground; the space they occupied became narrower 
and narrower, and the moment did not appear distant when they would disappear 
under the popular flood which continued to ascend, and threatened to engulf them 
under its irresistible mass. The general collected about fifty men resolved to 
die or open a passage, and he made a desperate attempt. It was a collision of 
giants. 

Suddenly a man placed himself before him, like a rock which rises from the 
depths of the sen. At the sight of him the general paused, in spite of himself, with 
a stifled cry of surpiise and rage. This man was Don Tadeo de Leon, his mortal 
enemy. 


log 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

THE LION AT BAY. 

“ My God ! ” said the general, “ am I the dupe of an hallucination ? " 

“ Ah ! ah ! ” the King of Darkness exclaimed, with an ironical smile, u you re- 
cognize me then, general? ” 

“ Lon Tadeo de Leon 1 ” Don Pancho cried, in horror. “ Do the dead then arise 
from the tomb ? ” 

“ Yes,” Don Tadeo replied, in a stem voice, “you are not mistaken, Doa Pancho. 
I am Don I adeo de Leon.” 

“ Man or demon,” the general shouted, I will fight you as a man, and send you 
back again to the hell from which you have escaped! ” 

His enemy smiled disdainfully. 

“ Your hour has come, Don Pancho,” he said ; “ you are due to the justice of the 
Dark I h arts.” 

“ You do not hold me yet, wre ched traitor ! If 1 cannot conquer, I can die.” 

“No, your hour has struck, I tell you; you are ours, you shall die, but not the 
death of a soldier.” 

“ If that be the case,” the general yelled, “ come and take me ! ” 

Don Tadeo did not deign a reply ; he gave a signal, and a lasso whizzed through 
the air, launched by an invisible hand, and fell round the general’s shoulders. 
Astonished by this unexpected attack, before he could make the least possible resist- 
ance, he received a teirific shock, lost his stirrups, was pulled from his horse, and 
dragged amongst the insurgents. 

“ Free him from that slip-knot,” Don Tadeo said. “ Secure his person, but treat 
him with respect. ’ 

Don Tadeo turned towards the soldiers. 

“ Surrender,” he shouted, “surrender! the man who misled you is in our power; 
your lives shall be spared.” 

As if by a spontaneous movement, they threw down their muskets, crying 
aloud : — 

“Chili! Chili! liberty! liberty!” 

“That is well! ” said Don Tadeo; “ leave the city, encamp at the distance of a 
mile, and await orders.” 

The conquered soldiers followed the road they had traversed an hour before; they 
passed through the silent ranks of the insurgents, which opened to give them 
passage. Without loss of time, Don Tadeo, followed by a crowd of his partisans, 
directed his course towards the Pinza Mayor, where the battle still raged. 

But the day was passing away, their ammunition was growing exhausted, a 
great number of their comrades were stretched dead at their feet, and nothing could 
support them but the hope that the succour so impatiently expected was at hand. 
In the heat of their own contest they had not heard the noise of the battle fought by 
Don Pancho at the city gates, in which but few shots had been fiied, as it had been 
principally decided by cold steel. 

Dejected, and with downcast eyes, the senator, who had been the bearer of the 
fatal proclamation, trembled in al. his limbs; he regretted, but too late, having 
thrown himself into this hornet’s nest; and he offered up the most magnificent vows 
to the innumerable saints of the golden Spanish legend, if they would bring him 
•ate anil sound through the pe:i s which surrounded him. 


lot 


The Lion at Bay. 


At every shot he heard, the poor senator jumped like a Guanaco, with staitled 
eyes; and when, now and then, in spite of the precautions he had taken, the sinistef 
hissing of a bullet resounded in his ear, he threw himself flat on his face. 

At first, the contortions and cries of Don Ramon had very much amused the 
officers and soldiers among whom accident had placed him ; they had even taken 
delight in augmenting his terrors ; but, at length, as happens more frequently in 
such cases than people fancy, the pleasantries had ceased. 

“ The devd take the poltroon ! ” the general at length cried, angrily ; “ cannot you 
keep your trembling limbs still? Caspita l -console yourself, they won’t kill you 
more than once."’ <• 

‘‘ Ah ! that is very easy for you to say,” the senator replied, in a broken voice; “ I 
am no soldier; it is your trade to be killed, it is all one to you.” 

Hum !” said the general, “ not quite so much so as you may think; but we 
shall all go together.” 

“ What is that you say ? ” the poor man muttered. 

“Caramba! it is clear as day, if Don Pancho does not make haste and come, all 
of us here will die.” 

“ But I do not wish to die! ’’ said the senator, bursting into tears ; “ I am no 
soldier. Oh ! I implore you, let me go away ! ” 

The general shrugged his shoulders. 

“ What consequence can it be to you ? ” the senator continued, in a supplicating 
tone ; “ do save my life ! ” 

“ How the devil can I help you ? ” the general said. 

“ Well, now, look here,” said the senator; “ you owe me two thousand piastres/* 
“ What then ? ” the general, vexed at this ill-timed remark, said, sharply. 

“ Get me away from here, and I will cry quits.’’ 

u Y ou are a fool, Don Ramon ; do you think if I could get safely away from here, 
that I would remain ? ” 

“ I see what you are,” said the senator, despondingly ; “ you are but a false 
friend.” 

In short, the poor man was almost mad ; he knew not what he said, terror had 
deprived him of the little sense he ever possessed. But, in reality, the position became 
every instant more critical ; the carnage was horrible, the soldiers fell one aftr" 
another beneath the bullets of the insurgents, who were sheltered by every corner or 
the plaza. 

All at once the senator bounded forward like a chamois ; he made directly to the 
general, and seized his arm. 

“ We are saved ! ” he cried ; “ thanks be to God t” 

“ Hilloh ! what’s the matter now, Don Ramon? What bee has stung you? are 
you really mad ? ” 

“ 1 have not been stung,” the senator replied, as fast as he could speak, “ nor am 
I mad ; we are saved.” 

“ Well, how ? what is it ? Is Don Pancho coming ? ” 

“ Don Pancho, indeed ! I wish he were at the devil ! ’* 
li Well, what is it, then ? ’’ 

“Why, do you not see, yonder? look, behind the barricade which blocks the 
entrance of the calle.” 

“ What is there to see ? ” 

“ W r hy, a flag of truce ! a white flag I ” 

* Ah ! ” said the general, eagerly, “ let us look ! n 
And he did look. 

“ True! ” he said, at the expiration of a minute. “ Success to all cowards, say I, 
for having good eves.” 


102 


The Adventurers , 


At that moment, a nearly spent ball came ricochetting and whizzing dose to Don 
Ramon’s ear. 

“ Lord, have mercy upon me ! ” he cried, falling flat on his face. 

In the meantime, the general had likewise cause ! a flag of truce to b'" hoisted on 
his entrenchments, and had given orders for the firing to cease. The noi-e of the 
combat being hushed, the senator, like a rabbit relieved from alarm, raised his head 
a little. 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

THE TRUCE. 

As soon as the flag of truce was hoisted, the firing at once ceased. The troops, 
who had ceased to hope for succour, were not sorry to find that the insurgents saved 
their military honour. General Cornejo, in particular, was tired of the hopeless 
combat. 

“ Well, Don Ramon,” he said, “ I think I have found means to enable you to 
escape without striking a blow ; so what we agreed to stands good, does it not ? ” 

The senator looked at him with a bewildered air ; the worthy man had not the 
least recollection of what he had either said or done while the balls were whistling 
round him. 

“ 1 do not at all understand you, general,” he replied. 

“ Poor man ! pretend to be innocent, do! ” said the general, laughing ; “ do you 
wish to persuade me you are like the Guanacos, which lose their memory through 
trembling with fear ? ” 

“ Upon my honour,” said the other, “ I swear that I have not the least remem- 
brance of having promised anything.” 

“ Ah ! well, it is possible, for you were devilish frightened. But I will refresh 
your memory. You said to me, on the spot where we now stand, not more than 
half an hour ago, that if I found the means of securing your esca e safe and sound 
you would hold me quits tor the two thousand piastres I lost to you, and owed 
you.” 

” Do you flatter yourself that that is the truth ? ” said the senator. 

“ 1 am sure it is. Ask these gentlemen,” the general asked, turning toward! 
some officers who stoo l by. 

“ Oh, certain y 1 true to the letter,” they said. 

“ Ah ! ah ! ” 

“ Yes, and as I would not listen to you, you added — ” 

“ What 1 ” Don Ramon, who knew of old the man he had to deal with, said, w»th 
a start — “ do you mean to say that I added something? ” 

“ 1 he devil ! yes,” said the other. “You added this; and I repeat your ov" 
words. Y ou said, as plainly as you could speak — * And I will give a thousand 
piastres in addition.’ ” 

“ Oh, that is not possible ! ” the senator ejaculated. 

“ Perhaps I did not understand you ? ” 

That must be it.” 

“ Do you admit you mentioned the two thousand ?” asked the general, quietly, 

“ Not at all 1 not at all 1 ” replied Don Ramon. 

“ Perhaps you meant more ; well, we will n t haggle about that.” 

" i never said a word of the kind 1 ” the exasperated senator exclaimed. 


The Truce . 


103 


“ In that case,” said the general, with a stern frown, “ you mean to say that I 
have told a taisehood.” 

“ Pardon me, my dear general,” said Don Ramon, aware that le had made a 
false move, “you are perfectly right; I do now temember it was two thousand 
piastres I promised you in addition.” 

It was now t.e general’s turn to be at a loss, for this generosity on the part of the 
senator, whose avarice was proverbial, confused him. 

“ But,” Don Ramon added, with an air of triumph, “ you have not saved 
me.” 

“ What do you mean by that? ” 

“Why, Santiago l as we are going to hold a parley, you are too late, and our 
bargain is void.” 

“ On ! oh I ” said Don Tiburcio, with a jeering smile, “ you think so, do you ? ” 

“ C spita ! I am sure of it.” 

“ And yet you are deceived, my dear friend, as you shall judge: come with me, 
the flag of truce is now crossing the bariicades.” 

“ Y ou are joking.” 

“ I never joke about serious circumstances.” 

“ In Heaven’s name explain yourself 1 ” said the poor senator, whose fears had all 
returned. 

“Lord! it is the simplest thing in the world,” said the general, care’ essly ; “I 
have but to declare to the leader of the revolt, and be assured I will not fail to do so, 
that I only acted by your orders.” 

“ Well, but that is not true,” interrupted the Don. 

“ I know that,” the general replied; “ but, as you are a senator, they will believe 
me, and you will be shot.” 

Don Ramon was thunderstruck by this piece of implacable logic; he found that 
he was in a hobble, from which he could not possibly escape without paying hand- 
somely. He looked at his friend , who surveyed him with a pitilessly ironical smile, 
whilst the officers bit their lips to keep from laughing. 

“Well, Don Tihurcio, I admit that I owe you two thousand piastres, but I will 
pay you.” 

This was the only epigram he ventured to indulge in regarding the general’s 
willingness to pay. 

The general meantime prepared to listen to the propositions of the officer with the 
flag of truce. This officer was Don Tadeo de Leon. 

“ What do you come here for? ” the geneial asked. 

“ To offer you good terms, if you will surrender.’’ 

“ Surrender! ” the general shouted with a laugh ; “ you must be made, sir I ” and, 
then he added : “ Remove the bandage.” 

The bandage fe 1 accordingly. 

“ Look round you,” said the general, haughtily, “ do we look like people asking 
for a favour ? ” 

“No, general, you are a stout soldier, and your troops are brave; you ask no 
favour, it is we who come to offer to lay down our arms on both sides, and put an 
end to this fratricidal contest,” Don Tadeo replied. 

“ W o are you, may I ask, sir?” said the general. 

“ I am Don Tadeo de Leon, whom your leader ordered to be shot.*' 

“You!” cried the general, “you here! ” 

“ I. myself; and I have another name.” 

“ Tell it to me, sir.” 

“ 1 am called the King of Darkness.” 

“ The leader of the Daik Heaits! ” the general murmured, starting. 


io4 


The Adventurers. 


“ Yes, general, I am the leader of the Dark Hearts, but I am still something 
more.” 

“ Explain yourself, sir,” the general asked, who began to be in doubt how to be- 
have toward the strange personage who was speaking to him. 

“ I am the leader of the men whom you term insurgents, to defend the institu- 
tions which you have overthrown.” 

“ Sir ! ” said the general, “ your words ” 

“Are just,’’ continued Don Tadeo ; “ask your own soldier’s heart, general, and 
then tell me which side is right.” 

“ I am not a lawyer, sir,” Don Tiburcio replied impatiently; “you have yourself 
said that I am a soldier.” 

“ Let us not lose time uselessly in idle speeches, sir; will you, or will you not, lay 
down your arms ? ” 

“ By what right do you make me such a proposal ? ” the general asked. 

“ I could answer you,” replied Don Tadeo, sternly, “that it is by the right of the 
stronger, and that you know as well as I do that you are combating for a lost cause, 
and that you are persisting without advantage in a senseless struggle; but I prefer 
addressing myself to your heart, and saying, why should brothers and fellow-country- 
men continue to cut each other’s throats? — why should we any longer shed such 
precious blood ? Make your conditions, general.” 

The general felt himself moved. This noble language had found an echo in his 
heart; he looked down on the ground, and reflected for several minutes; at length, 
raising his head, he replied — 

“ Sir, beiieve me it costs me much not to answer as I could wish what you have 
done me the honour to say to me ; but 1 have a leader above me.” 

“ In your turn please to explain yourself, sir.” 

“ I have sworn to Don Panctio Bustamente to defend his cause to the death.” 

“ Well ? ” 

“ Well, sir, unless Don Pancho Bustamente were killed or a prisoner, I will lay 
down my life for him.” 

“ Is that the only reason that prevents you, general ? ” 

“Yes, the only one.” 

“ In case General Bustamente should be e ther killed or a prisoner, you would 
surrender ? ” 

“ Instantly, I repeat.” 

“ Well,” replied Don Tadeo, stretching out his arm in the direction of the barri- 
cade by which he had come, “ look yonder, general.” 

Don Tiburcio looked in the direction indicated, and uttered a cry of surprise and 
soi row. Don Pancho Bustamente appeared at fhe top of the barricade, his head 
bare. 

“ Do you see him ? ” Don Tadeo asked. 

“ Yes,” replied the general, sorrowfully ; ** we all surrender, sir ; ” and turning the 
point of his sword to the ground, he bent the blade with the intention of breaking it. 
Don Tadeo stopped him by seizing the sword, saying: 

“ General, keep that weapon, it will serve you against the enemies of our country.” 

The general made no reply j he silently pressed the hand which the King of 
Darkness held out to him. 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

TWO ROGUISH PROFILES. 

The city was quiet, the revolution was complete. The soldiers had. evacuated Val- 
divia, which was left completely in the power of the Dark Hearts. As soon as 
peace was re-established, the Dark Heaits gave orders that tnc barricades should be 
destroyed. By the force of accomplished facts alone, Don Tadeo de Leon found 
■limself quite naturally invested with power. 

“ Well,” he asked Valentine, ‘‘ what do you think of what you have seen ? ” 

“ Faith,” the Parisian n plied, “ I think people must come to America to see how 
men can be caught with hook and line.” 

Don Tadeo could not refrain from smiling at this whimsical answer. 

44 Do not leave me,” he said : “ all is not over yet.” 

“I ask no better; but our friends yonder, don’t you think they will be very un- 
easy at our long absence ? ” 

“ Can you for a moment imagine that I have forgotten them? Within an hour 
you will be at liberty. Come with me ; I want to show you two faces to which our 
victory has given an expression very different from that which they generally wear.” 

“ That will be curious,” said Valentine. 

44 Yes,” Don Tadeo replied, 44 or hideous, whichever you please.” 

41 Hum 1 man is not perfect,” said Valentine, philosophically. 

44 Fortunately not ; if he were, he would be execrable,” Don i adeo remarked. 

They entered the cabildo, the doors of which were guarded by a detachment of 
Dark Hearts. The vast saloons of the palace were invaded by an eager crowd, who 
came to salute the rising sun ; that is to say, they came to offer the spectacle of their 
baseness to the fortunate man, whom, no doubt, they would have stoned if success 
had not crowned his audacious attempt. Don Tadeo passed, without seeing them. 

The two gentlemen, after many delays caused by the increasing crowd which closed 
around them, reached at last a retired apartment, in which there were only two 
persons. These two persons were General Tiburcio and Senator Don Ramon 
Sandias. The physiognomy of these persons offered a striking contrast. The 
general, with a sad face and a pensive step, walked about, whilst the senator, luxu- 
riantly reclining on a fautcuil, with a smile upon his lips, his visage expanded, and 
one leg thrown over the other, was fanning himself carelessly with an embroidered 
handkerchief. At the sight of Don Tadeo, the general advanced rapidly ; as for the 
•senator, he sat upright in his chair. 

44 Sir,” the general said, in a low voire, “ two words.” 

‘‘ Speak, general,’’ replied Don Tadeo ; “ I am entirely at your disposal.” 

“ Good heavens, sir ! ” said he, “I am an old soldier, unacquainted with diplo- 
macy ; I had a friend, almost a brother, and I am a prey to mortal uneasiness on 
his account.” 

“ And that friend ? ” 

41 Is General Bustamente. You must know,” he added, warmly, 41 that we hav*. 
been fellow-soldiers thirty years ; and I should wish — ” here he stopped. J 

44 You would like ? ” said Don Tadeo, quietly. * 

“ To know the fate that is reserved for him.” 

Don Tadeo gave the general a melancholy glance. 

44 General Bustamente is a great criminal. While a leader in power he wished 
to change the form of government against the will of the people from whom he held 


The Adventurers . 


106 


his position, and in contempt of the laws, which he shamelessly trampied under 
foot.” 

“ That is but too true,” said the general. 

“ General Bustamente has been implacable during the course of his too long 
career ; you know that he who sows the wind can only hope to reap the tempest.” 

“ Hence ! ” 

“ The same implacability will be shown to him that he has shown to others.” 

“ That is to say ? ” 

“ He will, in ad probability, be condemned to death.” 

“ I feared as much ; but will this condemnation be long delayed? ” 

“ Two days at most ; the commission which must try him will be formed to-day.* 

“ Poor friend ! ” said the general, piteously; “and that’s the end! Will you grant 
me a favour, sir ? ” 

“ Name it.” 

“ As the general must die, it would be a consolation to him to have a friend by 
his side.” 

“ No doubt it would.” 

“ Allow me to be his guard. I am sure he will be happy to know that it is I who 
have the duty of watching over him.” 

“ So be it — your request is granted. Have you anything else to say? 1 shall be 
happy to serve you.” 

“ No, I thank you, sir ; that is all I desired, — Ah l one word more 1 ’* 

“ Speak.” 

“ Can I be allowed to take this guard soon ? ” 

“ Immediately, if you like.” 

“ I thank you, sir,” said the general, and quitted the room. 

“ Poor man ! ” said Valentine. 

“ Eh ? “ ciied Don Tadeo. 

“ I said, poor man ! ” 

“Oh, yes; I heard you plainly enough, Hjt of whom were you speaking? * 

“Of the unfortunate man who has just leu us.” 

Don Tadeo si rugged his shoulders, and Valentine looked at him with surprise. 

“ Do you think you know whence the solicitude of tjiis poor man, as you call him, 
for his friend arises ? ” 

“ Why, from his friendship for him ; that is clear.” 

“ Well, then, allow me to tell you you are completely mistaken ; the poor general 
is only desirous to be near his companion in arms, that he may have tne opportunity 
of su pressing the proots of his complicity in the rash enterprise of yesterday ; proofs 
which Don Pancho has about him.” 

“ Can that be possible? ” 

“ By Saint Jago, yes! he would kill him if necessary.” 

“ But,” Don Tadeo cominued, pointing to the senator, “ I think we have something 
here that will cause you an agreeable feeling.” 

As soon as Don Ramon saw the general leave the apartment, he quitted his easy 
chair, and advanced towards Don Tadeo, bowing obsequiously. 

“To whom have 1 tae honour ©f speaking?” said the King of Darkness with 
studied politenes s. 

“ Sir,” the other replied, with a jaunty, gentlemanly air, “ my name is Don 

Ramon Sandias.” 

“ How can I be of service to you, sir ? ” said Don Tadeo, bowing. 

“On, “said Don Ramon; “personally, 1 ask nothing.” 

“ Indeed ! ” 

“ Caspiia ; no; i am rich, what more can 1 want? But l am a Chilian, a patriot, 


7 he Wounded Man. 


107 


sir; and, what is more, a senator. Placed in an exceptional position, I am bound to 
give my fellow-citizens unequivocal proofs of my devotion to the holy cause of 
liberty.” 

“ Certainly.” 

“ I have heard, sir, that the wretched Cabecillo, the cause of this silly movement, 
is n your hands.” 

* Yes, sir,” replied Don Tadeo, with inperturbable coolness, 

‘ Y ou are going to bring this man to trial ? ” 

44 Within forty-eight hours, sir.” 

“ '1 hat is right, sir. It is thus that just ce should be dealt to these shameless agi- 
tators, who, in contempt of the sacred laws of humanity, seek to plunge our beautitul 
country into the gulf of revolutions.” 

44 Sir 1 ” 

44 Pardon me for speaking thus,” said Don Ramon ; “ I feel that my freedom goes 
far, but my indignati n carries me away, sir; it is quite time that these makers of 
widows and orphans should receive the exemplary chastisement they merit.'’ 

“ Sir, this man is not yet condemne 1 .” 

“ And that is exactly what brings me to you, sir. As a senator I claim of you 
the right which belongs to me, of presiding over the commission.” 

“ Y our request is granted, sir,” Don Tadeo replied. 

“ Thank you, sir 1 ” said the senator ; “ however painful the duty may be, I shall 
know how to perform it.” 

After bowing deeply the senator left the ro m. 

44 You see,” said Don Tadeo, turning to Valentine, <4 Don Pancho had two friends 
upon whom he thought he could depend: one took upon him to proclaim him, the 
otner to defend him.” 

44 It is monstrous 1 ” said Valentine, with disgust. 

44 No,” replied Don Tadeo ; 44 he has failed.” 

44 1 have had enough of your politcs with two faces,” replied Valentine ; ‘‘allow 
me to return to our friends.” 

Valentine left the room, went straight to the stables, saddled his horse himself, and 
set off at a gallop. A vague uneasiness disturbed him, he had a presentiment of 
some misfortune or another. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

THE WOUNDED MAN. 

Let us turn to the Count de Prebois. When the abduction was committed, that part 
0 : the plain where Don Tadeo had pitc. ed his camp was deserted. The crowd had 
all gone to the side where the renewal of the treaties was taking place. Besides, 
the measures of the ravisheis had been so judiciously taken, all had passed so 
quickly, without resistance, without cries or tumult, that no alarm had been given, 
and no one could suspect what was going on. 

Louis remained for a considerable time lying senseless in front of the tent. By a 
singuiat chance, the peons, the arrieros, and even the two Indian chiefs, who could 
not think there was anything to be dreaded, had all gone. When tne cross had been 
planted, and the toqui ami the geneial had gone, arm in arm, to the tent of the 
latter, the crowd began to separate into little groups. 

The Indian chiefs were the first to quit the scene j on approaching the li tie camp, 


The Adventurers, 



they were *mn>rised at not seeing- Louis, and a certain appearance of disorder in tie 

baggage filled them with uneasiness. 

Louis was stiil tying where the assassins had left him, stretched across the 
entrance to the tent, nis discharge! pistols in his hands, his head thrown back, bis 
mouth half open, and his teeth clenched. Tne blood had ceased to how. The two 
men looked at him fora moment with a feeling of stupor. 

“ He is dead ! ” said Curumilla. 

“ He seems so,” Trangoil-Lanec replied. 

He raised the young man’s senseless head, untied his cravat, and opened hil 
vest. 

“ This is a revenge ! ” he murm ured. 

“ What is to be done?” said Curumilla. 

“ Let us try to recover him — 1 hope he is not dead.” 

And then, with infinite address and incredible celerity, the two Indians bestowed 
upon the wounded man the most intelligent and most effective care. For a long 
time all were useless. At lengtli a sigh, faint as a breath, exhaled painfully from 
the oppressed breast of the young man ; a slight Hush tinted his cheeks, andi after 
seveial effi r s, he op ned h s ey. s« 

“Loss ot blood alone lias made him faint,” said Curumilla, “ the wounds are 
wide, but not dangerous.” 

“ But what has been going on here ! ” I'rangoil-Lanec asked. 

“ Hush ! ” said Cuiurnilla. 

The young man’s lips moved silently ; but at length he pronounced with a great 
effort, the single word — 

“ Rosario ! ” 

Then he sank back again. 

“An ! ’’ ciied Curumilla, .as if a sudden light had broken upon him, “ where is 
the young pale-faced maiden ? ” and he sprang into the tear. 

The Indians lilted up the wounded man gently in tneir amis, and cairied him 
into tne tent, wneie they placed him in Rosario’s empty hammock. Louis recovered 
his senses, but almost immediately was overcome by a piotouud drowsiness. After 
having made him as comfortable as they could, the two Indians left the tent, and 
began, with the instinct of their race, to seek on the ground for indications they 
could ask of no witness, but which would show them traces they could under* 
stand. 

The peons and arrieros had returned from the ceremony, and expressed the 
greatest terror on learning what had taken place duiing- their absence. Alter the 
two cniefs had smoked a few minutes, tney extinguished their pipes, and Trangoil- 
Lanec began — 

“My brother is a wise chief, let him say what he has seen.” 

“ I will speak, since my b otner desires it,’’ Curumilla replied, bowing his head ; 
** the pale maiden with the blue eyes has been carried off by five horsemen.” 

To this Trangoil-Lanec made a sgn ot assent. 

“ These five horsemen came from tne other side of the river ; their footmarks are 
strongly impiinted on the ground, which was wetted in the places where the horses 
trod with their dripping hoofs ; four ot these horsemen are Huilienes, the filth is a 
paL-face. 

“ Good ! ” said Trangoil-Lanec, “ my brother has ttie eyes of a Quanico ; nothing 
escapes him.” 

“ Of the four horsemen who dismounted, three are Indians; but the fourth is a 
Muiuche, for the lo.vels of his spurs nave left deep maiks all around. The three 
fir-'t hav • crenc up to tne tent, where Don Louis was talking' with the young blue- 
eyed maiden.” 


The Wounded Alan 


i >9 


“ Good ! ” Trangoil-Lanec replied, “my brother knows everything. The 
ravishers have crossed the river, and gone in die direction of the mountains. Now, 
what will my brother do ? ” 

“ Trangoil-Lanec is an experienced chief, he will wait for Don Valentine; 
Cururniila will go upon the track.” 

“My brother has spoken well; he is wise and prudent; he wil. find tnem.” 

“ Yes, Curumilia will find them,” the chief replied. 

After saying these words, he arose, saddled his horse, and left the camp ; Tran- 
goil-Lanec returned and took his place by the wounded man. The day passed 
away thus. The Spaniards had all left the plain ; the Indians, for the most part, 
had followed their example; there only remained a few tardy Araucauos : but these, 
also, were prepa:ing to depart. Towards evening Louis found himself much 
better. 

“ Oh! ” said the young man, “ Rosario ! poor Rosario is lost 1 ” 

“ My brotner must not be depressed with giief,” Trangoil-Lanec replied softly ; 
“ Curumilia is upon the track of the ravishers. 5 ’ 

“ Do you seriously tell me that? Is Curumilia really in pursuit of them?” the 
young man asked. 

“Trangoil-Lanec is an Ulmen,” the Araucano replied proudly: “ no lie has ever 
soded his lips. I repeat that Curumilia is in pursuit of the ravishers. Let my 
brother hope.” 

A sudden flush crossed the young man’s face at these words ; a sad smile curled 
his pale lips. All at once the furious galloping of a horse was heard. 

‘ Good! ” Trangoil-Lanec murmured, looking at the wounded man, whose 
regular breathing proclaimed that he was sleeping peacefully. “ What will Don 
Valentine say to all this ? ” 

And he strode out hastily to meet the Paiisian. 

“ Chief! ” he cried, in a tremulous voice, “ can what the peons say be true ? ” 

“ Yes,” the chief replied coolly. 

The young man sank down, as if thunder-struck. The Indian seated himself 
gently upon a bale, and placing himself beside him, said — 

“ My brother has much courage.” 

“ Alas 1 ’’ the young man exclaimed in an agonised voice, “Louis, my poor 
Louis, assassinated 1 Oh!” he added, with a terrible gesture, “1 will avenge 
him.” 

The chief looked at him for an instant attentively. 

“What does my brother mean? ” he asked, “ his friend is not dead.” 

“ Oh ! why do you seek to deceive me, chief ? ” 

“ I speak the truth ; Don Louis is not dead,” the Ulmen replied. 

“ Oh ! ” he cried, impetuously, and springing up, “he lives? — is that possible?” 

“ He has received two wound-.” 

“ Two wounds ! ” 

“ Yes, but they arc not dangerous.” 

Valentine remained for an instant stupefied by this good news. 

“ Oh ! ” he exclaimed, throwing himself into the arms of the chief, “ it is true, is it 
net? — his life is not in danger.” 

“ No, no, my brother can reassure himself ; ioss of blood a one reduced him to a 
state of torpor.” 

“ Thanks ! thanks, chief! I can see him, may 1 not ? ” 

“ He is asleep,” 

“ Oh! I will not wake him, be assured of that.” 

“ See him, then,” Tiangoil-Lanec replied, smiling. 


I IO 


The Adventurers, 


Valentine went in. He looked at his friend, peacefully sleeping; he leant softly 
over him, and impressing a kiss upon his brow, whispered — 

“ Sleep, deai brother, l will watch.” 

The lips of the wounded man moved ; he murmured — 

“ Valentine, save her ! ” 

Come here, chief,” said the Parisian to Trangoil-Lanec, “ and tell me the details 
of what has passed, that I may know how to avenge my brother, and save her he 
loves.” 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

ARAUCANl AN DIPLOMACY. 

Antinahuel had not remained long inactive. Scarce had General Bustamente’s 
escort disappeared in the cloud of dust ere he remounted his horse, and crossed the 
river. When he arrived on the other bank, he planted his lance in the ground, and 
turned towards the herald. 

“ Let the three toquis, the Ulmens, and the Apo-Ulmens meet here in an hour,” he 
said; “the fire of council shall be lighted on this spot for a grand council.” 

The herald bowed down to his horse’s neck and set off at full speed. Antinahuel 
cast a glance around him. All the chiefs had regained their huts; one warrioi 
alone remained. On perceiving him a smile stole over the lips of the toqui. This 
warrior was a man of lo:ty stature, proud carriage, and haughty countenance, 
whose piercing look conveyed a fierce and cruel expression. He appeared to be in 
the prime of life, that is to say, about forty years of age. He replied to the toqui’s 
smile by a look of intelligence, and to his ear said, with an accent of gratified 
hatred — 

“ When the cougouars tear each other to pieces, they prepare a rich quarry for 
the eagles of the Andes.” 

“Th« Puelches are eagles,” Antinahuel replied; “they are masters of the other 
side of the mountains; they leave to the Huiliche women the care of weaving their 
ponchos.” 

At this sarcasm, launched against the Huiliches, a fraction of the Araucano 
people, who devote themselves principally to agriculture, the Apo-Ulmen frowned. 

“ My father is severe with his sons,” he said. 

“ The Black Stag is a formidable chief in his nation,” Antinahuel remarked, “ he 
is the first of the Apo-Ulmens of the province of the maritime country. His heart 
is Puelche ; my soul rejoices when he is at my side. Why is it that the Ulmens are 
not o: the same temper as he? ” 

“ My brother lias explained the reason. Obliged to live in continual trade 
relations with the Spaniards, the tribes of the flat country have laid down the lance 
to take up the pick-axe; they have become cultivators.” 

“ Can that be true ? ” Antinahuel cried ; “ may they be depended upon ? ” 

“ What is the use of speaking of the subject at this moment ? ” said the Apo- 
Ulmen, with a smile 1 has not my father just come from renewing the treaties? ” 

“ That is true,” said the toqui, “ peace is secured for a long time.” 

“ My father is a wise chief, that which he does is w. 11 don.-,” the other rep ied. 

Antinahuel was preparing to replv, when an Indian arrived at full speed, a. 
stopped suddenly before the two chiefs. The panting sides of his horse, whicn ejecta, 
ciouds from his nostrils, and was spotted with white loam, showed that he had ridden 
far an 1 fast. Antinahuel looked at him tor an instant. 

*• My son, Theg-teg — the thundeier has made a rapid journey.” 


Ill 


Arciucanian Diplomacy . 


** I have executed the orders of my father.” 

At these words, out of politeness, the Apo-Ulmen pressed the sides of his horse 
to ret te. 

“ Black Stag- may remain,” he said ; “ is he not my friend ? ” 

* 4 I will remain if my father wishes it,” the chief answered quietly. 

“ Let him remain, then; his brother has no secrets from him. My brother can 
speak.” 

“ The Chiaplos are fighting,” the lat er replied; “ they have dug up the hatchet, 
and turned it aganst theirown breasts.” 

“Oh ! ” the toqui exclaimed, “ my brother must be mistaken, the pafe-faces are not 
cougouars, to devour each other.” 

And he turned towards Black Stag with a smile of undefinable expression. 

“Theg-teg is not mistaken,” the Indian warrior replied, “his eyes have seen 
clearly: the stone tolderi , which the pale-faces call Valdivia, is at this moment a 
more ardent furnace than the volcano of Autaco.” 

“ Good l ” the toqui remarked, “ my son as seen well ; he is a warrior brave in 
battle, but he is likewise prudent; did he stand apart to rejoice? ” 

“ Theg-teg is prudent, but when he looks he means to see; he knows all, my 
father may question him.” 

“ Good 1 the great warrior of the pale-faces set out from here to the help of his 
soldiers; the advantage fs with him.’’ 

The Indian smiled, but made no reply. 

“ Let my brother speak ! ” Antinahuel resumed. 

“ He whom my brother names as the great warrior of the pale-faces is a prisoner; 
his soldiers are dispersed like grains of wheat.” 

“ Wah ! ” Antinahuel cried with feigned anger, “ my brother has a lying tongue. 
The great warrior has an arm strong as the thunder of Pillian. Nothing can 
resist it.” 

“ That arm, however powerful, has not been able to save him ; the eagle is 
captive.” 

“ But his soldiers? he had a numerous army.” 

“ 1 have told my father ; the chief being made captive, the soldiers, fell beneath 
the blows of their angry enemies.” 

“ The chiefs who were conquerors pursued them.” 

“ What for ? The pale-faces are women without courage ; as soon as their 
enemies weep and pray for pardon they forgive them.” 

“ Brothers ought not to be inexorable,” said the toqui, “ when they lift the hatchet 
against each other, they may wound a friend without wishing it.” 

The Indian bowed as if assenting. 

“ What are the pale-faces doing now ? ” 

“ They are assembled round the council fire.” 

“ Good ! They are wise men. I am satisfied with my son,” Antinahuel added; 

“ he is a warrior, as skilful as brave; he may retire.” 

“Theg-teg is not fatigued ; his life is my father’s,” the warrior said, with a bow. 

“ Antinahuel will remember his son,” the toqui said with a sign of dismissal. 

The Indian bowed respectfully to his chief, and pressing his knees while shortening 
the bridle, he made his horse perform a curvet, brought it to the ground with an 
extraordinary bound, and went off caracoling. 

“ What does my biother think of that which this man has said ? ” he asked. 

“ My father is the wisest of the toquis of his nation, the chief the most venerated 
by the Araucanian tiibes,” Black Stag re; lud. 

“Mv biother is right,” the toqui sauf, with a haugl ty glance; “I have my 
nymph 1 ” 


1 12 


The Adventurers. 


The Apo-Ulmen bowed with an air of conviction. At this moment the Arau- 
canian drums and trumpets sounded loudly— the chasquis were calling the cniefs to 
council. 

“ What will mv father do ? ” asked the Apo-Ulmen. 

“Man is weak/’ Antinahuel replied ; “ but Piliian loves his sons, the Moluchos, 
he will inspire ihe words I shall pronounce.” 

« My father has convoked the great Auca-coyog of the nation; did he suspect tire 
news he has just receiv.d ? ” 

“ Antinahuel knows everything,” he answered. 

“ Good 1 I know what my father thinks.” 

“ Perhaps.** 

“ Let my father remember the words I have spoken.” 

“ My ears are open, my son may repeat them.” 

“ When cougouars tear each other to pieces, they prepare a rich quarry for the 
eagles of the Andes.” 

“ Good ! ” said Antinahuel, with a laugh ; “ my son is a great chief.” 

The two warriors exchanged a look of undefinable meaning ; these two men, so 
cunning and dissimulating, had compromised themselves to each other without 
avowing anything. 


CHAPTER XL. 

THE COUNCIL. 

Antinahuel had eagerly seized the pretext of the renewal of the treaties to try and 
obtain from the chiefs authority to carry into execution the projects which had been 
so long ripening in his brain. The Araucanian code, which contains all the laws of 
the nation, created an obligation for his doing so, from which even his renown and 
popularity were powerless to release him. But he hoped to overcome the opposition 
of the chiefs, or their repugnance to submit to his will, by means of his eloquence 
and the influence wh ch, under many circumstances, he had exercised over the minds 
of the Ulmens, even those most determined to resist him. 

The Araucanos cultivate with success the art of speaking, which among them 
leads to public honours. They make it a point to speak their own language well, 
and to preserve its purity by guarding particularly against the introduction of foreign 
words. They carry this so far, that when a white establishes himself amongst 
them, they oblige him to abandon his own name and take one of their country. 
The style of their speeches is figurative and allegorical. 

This will suffice to show that the Araucanos are not so savage as we have been led 
to suppose. In shoit, a small people, who, without allies, isolated at the extremity 
of the continent, have , since the landing of the Spaniards on their coasts, that is to 
say, during three hundred years, constantly and alone resisted European armies 
composed of expei ienced soldiers and greedy adventurers, whom no difficulty was 
likely to stop, and who have preserved their independence and their nationality intact, 
ate, in our opinion, respectable in every point of view, and ought not to be stigmatized 
as barbarians with impunity. 

Antinahuel and Black-Stag arrived at the place where the chiefs were assembled. 
They dismounted and joined the groups of Ulmens. The chiefs, who were peacefully 
chatting together, at their arrival became silent, and, for a few minutes, not a word 
was heard in the assembly. At length Cathicara, the toqui of the Pire-Mapus, made 
a few steps towaids the centre of the circle, and took the initiative. 

Cat icara was an old man of seventy, of majestic bearing, and imposing ccunte- 


The Council . 


113 


nance. A renowned warrior in his youth, now that many winters had wrinkled his 
blow and silvered his long hair, he enjoyed, by just title, a great reputation for 
wisdom in his nation. 

“Toquis, Apo-Ulmens and Ulmens of the valiant nation of the Aucas, whose 
immense hunting-grounds cover the surface of the earth,’’ he said, “ my heart is 
sad; a cloud covers my mind, and my eyes, filled with tears, are constantly cast 
upon the ground ; whence comes it that giief devouis me ? Why does the joyous 
song of the goldfinch no longer sound cheerfully in my ears? why do the rays of 
the sun seem less warm to me? why, in short, does nature appear less beautiful to 
me? Will you tell me, my brothers? You are silent; shame covers your brows; 
your humbled eyes are cast down — have you nothing to reply? It is because you 
are a degnerate people ! your warriors are women, who instead of the lance take up 
the spindle ; because you bow basely beneath the yoke of these Chiaplos, these 
Huincas, who laugh at you, for they know that you have no longer blood red enough 
to contend with them !’* 

The chiefs experienced a sensation of terror while looking at the toqui. A solemn 
silence prevailed in the assembly. On his part, Antinahuel did not stir. Black-Stag 
approached him softly, and asked — 

What does my father see ? ” 

“I see the warriors of the pale-faces; they have dug up the war-hatchet, and are 
fighting with one another.” 

44 V\ hat more does my father see? ” Black-Stag resumed. 

“ I see streams of blood, which redden the soil ; the odour of that blood rejoices 
my heart.” 

“ What do they say ? ” the chiefs exclaimed. 44 What do the Aucas warriors say ? ” 

“ They say, ‘ Brothers, the hour is come l To arms l ’ ” 

44 To arms ! ” the chiefs shouted, as w.th one voice. 

44 Chiefs of the Aucas,’’ he said, “ what do you order me to do ? ’’ 

44 Antinahuel,” Cathicara replied, throwing his stone hatchet into the fire, 44 there 
is now but one supreme hatchet in the nation, it is in your hands ; let it be red up 
to the hilt in the blood of the vile Huincas; lead our Utal-Mapus to battle — you 
have the supreme command ! we give you the power of life and death over our 
persons.” 

Antinahuel raised his lofty head, his brow radiant with pride: blandishing in 
his nervous hand his powerful war-hatchet, he said haughtily — 

44 Aucas, I accept the honour you do me ; I will prove worthy of the confidence. 
This hatchet shall never be buried till my body has served for food to the vultures of 
the Andes, or till the cowardly pale-faces shall have come upon their knees to implore 
pardon ! ” 

“ My father,” said Black-Stag, 44 is a great chief; nothing is imposs : ble to him l ” 

44 What does my son mean ? ” 

44 War is declared. Whilst we attempt incursions into the Chilian territory, to 
keep our enemies in a state of uncertainty as to our plans, let my father mount with 
his mosotones upon his coursers more fleet than the wind, and fly upon the wings of 
the tempest to the Puelches. 

44 My son is v\ise! I will follow his counsels,” the toqui answered, with a smile 
of mysterious expression ; “ but he has said war is resolved upon ; the interests of 
my nation must not suffer from my short absence.” 

44 Mv father will provide for that.” 

44 1 have provided for it ; let my son listen to me.” 

44 My ears are open to receive the words of my father.” 

44 At sunrise, when the fumes of the water-fire are dissipated, the chiefs will ask 
for Antinahuel.” _ 


The Adventurers, 


114 


Black-Stag nodded assent. 

“ I will place in the hands of my son,” the chief continued, “ the stone hatchet, 
the sign of my dignity.’' 

The Apo-Ulmen bowed respectful];'. 

“ They are the most powerful Ulmens of the nation. Let my son remember they 
are eight in number; each of them must make an incursion on the frontier, in order 
to prove to the Chiaplos that hostilities have commenced.*’ 

“ Good ! ” 

“ These are the names of the Ulmens : Tangol, Qudpal, Auchanguer, Colfunguin, 
Trumau, Cuyumil, and Pailapan. Does my son hear these names distinctly? ” 

“ I have heard them.” 

“ Good ! ” Antnahuel replied; “ my son loves me ; after two suns he will find me 
at the tolderia of the Black Serpents.” 

Antinahuel, at a bound, sprang upon a magnificent horse, held by the bridle by 
two Indians. 

“Forward!” he cried, settling himself in his saddle, and plunging his spurs into 
the sides of the horse. 

“ We have arrived,” the guide exclaimed. 

“ At last 1 ” Antinahuel said. 

“ In whic t tol lo is she ? ” asked Antinahuel. 

“ That is it,” he said, stretching out his arm in the direction of the cabin. 

The toqui turned round to ascertain whether his mos< tones, whom, in his rapid 
course, he had left far behind, were rejoining him ; and then, after the hesitation of 
a second, he apptoached the door and pushed it, saying in a low but determined 
voice — 

“ And he must be put to this I ” 

The door opened, and he entered. 


CHAPTER XL I. 

TWO HATREDS. 

Antinahuel found himself face to face with Dona Maria; by an instinctive 
movement each < rew back a step, stifling a cry — a cry of stupor on the part of 
Antinahuel, of surprise on the part of Linda. 

“ °h I ” sighed Dona Rosario. “ On, heaven ! now I am really lost indeed 1 ’* 

Dona Maria had in a few seconds driven back to her heart the feelings which 
raged within her. 

“My brother is welcome,” she said; “to what happy chance do I owe this 
presence ? ’ 

“ A happy chance for me, particularly,” he replied, with a satirical smile. 

The toqui was too well acquainted with the companion of his childhood not to 
know that he had in her a formidable adversary. 

“ Well 1 ” the Linda resumed, “ will my brother deign to do me the pleasure of 
explaining the cause of his sudden appearance ? ” 

“ 0,1 1 the ca use is very simple indeed, not worth mentioning ; I did not hope, in 
any way, to meet my sister here ; I must confess I did not seek her.” 

“ Ah ! ” said Dona Maria, “ I am doubly fortunate.” 

“ It is the truth.” the chief said. 

“ I am all eais, my brother can speak.” 


Two Hatreds, 


«' 5 


“ As my sister knows, this village is on the route which leads to my tolderia ; 
the night is advanced, my mosotones require a few hours’ lest; 1 resolved to encamp 
heie.” 

“ Not bad for an Indian,” murmured Dona Maria; “ well, we will say no more 
about that.” 

“ Eh ! ” said Antinahuel, feigning for the first time to perceive Dona Rosario ; 
who is this charming young woman ? ” 

“ A slave, not worthy your notice,” the Linda replied sternly. 

“ A slave 1 ” Antinahuel cried. 

“ Y es, a slave.” The Linda clapped her hands. 

“ Take away this woman ! ” she said. 

“ Oh, madam ! ” Rosario exclaimed, falling on her knees, “ can you be inexorable 
towards a poor girl ? ” 

The Linda gave her a fiery glance, and repulsed her w th her foot. 

“ I ordered the girl to be taken away,” she said, imperiously. 

At this flagrant insult, the blood rushed to the heart of the poor girl ; her pallid 
brow flushed with scarlet, and drawing herself up majes'ically and proudly, she 
said in a piercing voice, the prophetic tone of which struck the Linda to the heart — 

“ Beware, madam ! God will punish you ! As you to-day are without pity for me, 
so the day will come when there will be no pity for you ! ” 

When Antinahuel and the Linda were left alone a long silence ensued. The 
last words of Rosario had wounded the Linda like the stroke of a poniard. 
Passing her hand across her brow, as if to drive away the importunate idea that 
pursued her, she turned towards Antinahuel. 

“ No diplomacy between us, brother,” she said, “ we know each other too well to 
lose time in manoeuvring.” 

“ My sister is right ; let us speak frankly.” 
u The story of your return is very clever.” 

“Then my sister knows the reason that brings me.” 

“ I do not know,” she said, with an arch smi e, which played like a sunbeam 
round her rosy lips. 

“ A chief expians himself clearly, no one imposes upon him. My sister knows 
my hatred for the chief of the pale-faces.” 

“ Yes, I know that man is ttie personal enemy of my brother.” 

“ Well, then, my sister has in her hands the blue-eyed maiden, and she will 
give her to me.” 

“ M> brother is a man, he does not know how to avenge himself : why should 1 
give my prisoner up to him ? woman alone possesses the secret of torturing those 
they hate.” 

Antinahuel, although his face remained impassive, shuddered inwardly to these 
odious words. 

“ My sister is boastful,” he replied, “ her skin is white, her heart knows not how 
to hate.” 

“ No,” she passionately exclaimed, “ I have fixed the fate of this woman : I will 
not give her to my brother.” 

“ Will my sister then forget her promise ? ” 

“ Of what promise do you speak, chief ? ” 

Antinahuel appeared to h. slta;e for a moment. 

“ Will not my brother answer? ” the Linda continued. 

“ He whom my sister calls General Bustamente,” he replied in a sharp tone, “ is 
a prisoner.” 

The Linda sprang up like a wounded lioness. 
u A prisoner 1 ” she cried. 


The Adventurers . 


116 


“ He is a prisoner, and within three days will be dead.” 

The Linda was struck with stupor ; this frightful news crushed all her hopes, 

“ Oh 1 ” she murmured at length, “ he shall not die ! ” 

“ He wid die ! ” replied the chief ; “ who can save him ? ” 

“You,” she sat f, emphatically grasping his arm. 

“Why should I do it?” he remarked carelessly; “of what consequence is the 
life of the man to me ? ” 

“ No; but his life is precious to fne. He alone can deliver up my enemy to me 
Hj shall live ! ” 

“ Good ! my sister will deliver him then, as she is so anxious to save him.” 

“ You alone could do it, chief, if you would.’’ 

Antinahuel fixed his eyes upon her. 

“ What makes you suppose I would ? ” he said. 

“ Listen to me, chief!” the Linda cried. “You love that woman — that puny, 
pale-faced thing, do you not ? ” 

The Indian started, but made no reply. 


CHAPTER XLII. 

THE RETURN TO VALDIVIA. 

Night was come ; bending over the pillow of his friend, who was still buried in 
that sleep which generally follows gieat loss of blood, Valentine watched with 
anxious tenderness the cnanges which darkened his paie countenance. 

“ Oh ! ” said he, in a suppressed voice, “ be thy assassins who they may, they 
shall pay dearly.” 

“ Misfortune incessantly watches over man,” the chief remarked. 

“ Speak then ! ” the young man asked, in a firm voice. 

“ My brother is stro ig, he is a great warrior, he wall not suffer himself to be 
cast down. Let my brother hasten ; we must be gone ! ” 

“ Be gone ! ” cried Valentine ; “ and my friend?” 

“ Our brother Louis will accompany us.” 

“ Is it possible to move him ? ” 

“It must be,” the Indian said peremptorily; “the war-hatchet is dug up against 
the pale-faces.” 

“ Let us depart then,” the young man replied sorrowfully, convinced that 
Trangoil-Lanec knew more than he was willing to tell. 

“ Where arc we going ? ” he asked. 

“ To Valdivia,” the chief replied j “ it is there alone that Don Louis will be able to 
recover in safety.” 

“ Y ou are right,” said Valentine ; “ but shall we remain inactive ? ” 

“ I will do what my brother the pale-face wishes ! ” 

“Thank you, chief,” the Frenchman replied. 

“ My brother saved my life,” said the U men earnestly; that life is no longer 
mine, it belongs to him.” 

* Is my brother acquainted with the city ?” Trangoil-Lanec asked. 

“ Why do you ask that question ? ” 

“ For a very simp e reason. In the desert, by night or by day, I can serve as a 
guide to my brother ; but here, in this tolderia of the whites, my eyes close.” 

“ The dev 1 ! ” said Valentine, “ in that sense I am as blind as you, chief } it 
was only yesterday that I entered the city (or the first time.” 


T\c Return to Valdivia. 


ii7 


“Don : t let that disturb you, senor,” said one of the peons, “only tell me where 
you want to go, and 1 will conduct you.’’ 

“Hum!” Vaentine replied; “where I want to go to? Caspeta! I cannot 
exactly say.” 

“ Pardo-’, me, senor,” the arriero replied, “ if I dare ” 

“Oh, dare! dare! there’s a good fellow ! your idea is probably excellent.” 

“ W.-.y, senor, should you not go to the residence of Don Tadeo de Leon, my 
master ? ’’ 

“ Pardieu ! ” cried Valentine. “ On my word, you are something like a guide ! ” 

“ Do;i Tadeo is most likely at the cabildo.” 

“ By Jove ! that is true again ; but which is the way to the cabildo ? ” 

44 1 will show you, senor.” 

“That’s well ! this is an intelligent lad. Let us be moving, my friend.” 

“ Forward, then ! ” ciied the arriero. 

A soldier was marching with slow steps in front of the cabildo. 

“ Who goes there? he shouted sharply. 

“ La Patria ! ” Valentine replied. 

“ Go on then ! ” said the soldier. 

“Hum!” the young man murmured; “it appears not to be such an easy 
matter to obtain entrance ; never mind,” he added, “ let us try. My friend,” he 
said, “ we have business in the palace.” 

“ Have you the pass-word ? ” 

“ Santiago ! no,” Valentine answered frankly. 

“ Then you cannot enter.” 

“Iam determined I will go in ! ” Valentine replied. 

“ To arms! ” the soldier cried, and fired. 

Valentine, who had watched attentively all the soldier’s movements, had slipped 
quickly from his horse, and the bullet whistled over his head. At the cry of th« 
soldier and the report, several armed soldiers, followed by an officer with a lighted 
lan ern in his hand, rushed out of the palace. 

“What is going on here? ” the officer asked. 

“ Ah ! ’’ Valentine cried, to whom the voice was not unknown, “ is that you, 
Don Gregoiio ? ” 

“ Who calls me ? ” said the latter. 

“ I. Valentine ! ” 

“What! is it you, my friend, who are making all this disturbance?” replied 
Don Gregorio advancing. 

“ Wh t the devil was I to do ? ” said the young man; “I had not the pass* 
word, and I wanted to get in.” 

“ Hum 1 none but a Frenchman would have such an idea as that.” 

“ Is it not original ? ” 

“ Yes, but you risked being killed.” 

“ Bah ! we are always risking being killed ; I recommend my plan to you, und*» 
aimilar circumstances.” 

“ Thank you ; but come in ! come in ! ” 

“ That is all I want, particularly as I must see Don Tadeo instantly.” 

44 1 believe he is asleep.” 

“ He must be awakened.” 

“ Do you bring interesting news then ? ” 

“ Yes,” Valentine replied ; “ terrible news 1 ” 

The arrieros bore the hammock, with Don Louis still asleep, into the cabildo. 

“What does all this mean?” Don Gregorio said in astonishment; “is Doa 
Louis wounded ? ” 


The Adventurers. 


1 18 


“Yes,” Valentine replied, in a husky voice; “he has received two dagger 
Wounds.” 

“ But how did it all happen ? ” 

“ You will s >on learn ; but pray conduct me instantly to D. n Tadeo. ,f 
“In heaven’s name, come, then 1 your reserve alarms me." 


CHAPTER XLV. 

THE FATHER REVEALS HIMSELF. 

Don Tadeo had passed the greater part of the night in giving orders for the 
clearing away of the 1 adeems traces left by the combat. He had named the magis- 
trates charged with the police of the city. After having assured, as far as possible, 
the tranquillity and safety of the citizens, worn out with fatigue, sinking with 
sleep, he had thrown himseif, clothed as he was, upon a camp bed. He ad slept 
scarcely an hour, when the door of the chamber was pushed violently open, and a 
strong light gleamed in his eyes. Don Tadeo awoke suddenly. 

“ Who is there ? ” he cried. 

“ It is I,” replied Don Gregorio. 

“ Well, but you do not seem to be alone.” 

“ No, Don Valentine accompanies me.” 

“ Don Valentine 1 ” cried Don Tadeo, starting up; “why, I did not expect 
Don Valentine before morning; what reason can have induced him to travel by 
night ? ” 

“ A powerful reason, Don Tadeo,” the young man remarked, in a melancholy 
voice. 

“ In Heaven’s name, speak, then ! ” cried Don Tadeo. 

“ Be a man ! be firm ! collect all your courage 1 ” 

“ Speak ! ” he said, I am ready to hear you.” 

While uttering these words his voice was firm, his features ca’m. 

“ Is the misfortune you are about to announce to me personal ?” said Don 
Tadeo. 

“ Yes,” the young man replied, in a tremulous voice. 

“ God be praised ! Go on, then ; I listen to you.” 

“ Dona Rosario has disappeared,’’ he said : “ she has been carried off during 
our absence; Louis, my foster-brother, in endeavouring to defend her, has 
fallen, pierced by two sword-thrusts.” 

The King of Darkness appeared a statue of marble ; no emotion was 
perceptible upon his austere countenance. 

“ Is Don Louis dead ? ” he asled, earnestly. 

“ No,” Valentine answered, more and more astonished ; “ I even hope that in 
a few days he will be cured.” 

“ So much the better,” said Don Tadeo, feelingly. 

And crossing his arms upon his broad chest he resumed his hasty walk about 
the room. The three men looked at each other. 

“ Will you then abandon Dona Rosario to her ravishers ?” Don Gregorio 
asked. 

Don Tadeo darted at him a look charged with such bitter irony that Don 
Gre orio qualed beneath it. 

“ Were the rav.shers concealed in the entrails of the earth, I would discover 
them, be they who they may.” 


Curumilla. 


1 19 


“ A man is on their track,” said Trangoil-Lanec, advancing; “that man i a 
Curumilla.” 

A dash of joy for a moment shot from t^e eve of the King of Darkness. 

On ! ” he murmured, with clenched teeth, “ neware, Dona Maria, beware.” 

'• Whnt do you intend to do?” said Don Gregorio. 

“ Nothing, till the return of our scout,” he replied ; and then turning towards 
Valentine, “ Well, my friend, have you nothing else to announce to me ?” 

“ What leads you to suppose I have not told you all ? ” said the young man. 

“ Ah ! ” Don Tadeo replied, with a melancholy smile, “ we Spanish-Americans 
are horribly superstitious.” 

“ Well ? ” 

“ Well, then, among other follies of the same kind, we put faith in proverbs, 
and is there not one which somewhere says that a misfortune never comes 
singly ? ” 

“ Yesterday, as you know, General Bustamente renewed the treaties of peace 
with the Araucano chiefs.” 

“ He did.” 

“ 1 cannot tell what fugitive or what scout gave them information of what 
took place here ; but they have learnt the defeat and capture of the general.” 

“ I can understand that ; go on.” 

“ A kind of furious madness immediately seemed to possess them, and they 
held a great war-council.” 

1 In which, I suppose, they decided upon breaking the treaties ; is not that 
it?” 

“ Exactly,” 

“ And most likely determined upon war with us ?” 

“I suppose so; the four toquis cast the hatchet into the fire, and elected a 
chief.” 

“ Ah, ah ! ” said Don X a ^eo, “ and do you know the name of this man ? ” 

“ Yes, Antinaheul.” 


CHAPTER X L I V. 

CURUMILLA. 

Curumilla, after having carefully studied the prints made by the ravishers, at 
one divined fne route they had taken. He did not amuse himself by following 
them, for that would have been losing precious time; on the contrary, he 
resolved to cut across country, and wait for them at an elbow of the road he 
was acquainted with. 

A sudden idea rushed like lightning through Curumilla’s brain ; gathering 
himself up, he stiffened up the iron muscles of his legs, aud, bounding like a 
tiger, leaped up behind the horseman. Before the latter, surprised by this 
unexpected attack, had time to utter a cry, he p-essed his throat in such a 
manner as, for the time, to render him incapable of calling for help. In the 
twinkling of an eye the horseman was gagged and thrown to the ground ; then, 
securing the horse, Curumilla fastened it to a bush, aid returned to his 
prisoner. 

“Oh! ” said Curumilla, who, upon leaning over him, recognised him, “is it 
you, Joan ? ” 

“ Curumilla ! ” the other replied. 

“ Where is mv brother tminw '•>* 


120 


Tne Adventurers. 


“ To the tolderia of San Miguel.” 

“ Good, and for what purpose ? ” 

“ To place in the hands of the sister of the grand toqui a woman whom we 
have carried off this morning.” 

“ Who ordered you to do so ? ” 

“ She whom we are going to meet.” 

“ Where does this woman expect the prisoner ?” 

“ I have told the chief — at the tolderia of San Miguel.” 

“ In which casa ? ” 

“ In the last ; the one which stands a littie apart.” 

“ That is well. Let my brother exchange poncho and hat with me.” 

The Indian obeyed. 

At a sign from Curumilla he bent down in the high grass, and disappeared in 
the direction of Valdivia. The chief, without losing an instant, jumped into 
the saddle and soon joined the little troop, who had continued jogging quietly 
along, without dreaming of the substitution. It was Curumilla who, while 
carrying the young girl into the house, had whispered hope and courage. 

After the unexpected arrival of Antinahuel, when, at the order of Dona Maria, 
Curumilla led away the prisoner, instead of reconducting her to the apartment 
in which she had been, he threw a poncho over her. 

“ Follow me,” he said in a low voice. 

The maiden hesitated ; she was fearful of a snare. 

“ I am Curumilla, one of the Ulmens devoted to the two Frenchmen, the 
friends of Don Tadeo.” 

Rosario started imperceptibly. 

“ Go on,” she replied; ‘‘ I will follow you.” 

“ Does my sister find herself strong enough to mount on horseback ? ” 

“To escape from my persecutors,” she replied, “I have strength to do 
anything.” 

“ Good 1 ” said Curumilla, “ my sister is courageous. To horse, then.” 

The maiden breathed a sigh of relief on feeling herself one more free, and 
under the protection of a devoted friend. 

[We must leave our friends in this critical position for the present ; but those 
readers who feel an interest in the loves of Don Louis and Dona Rosario, will 
find their curiosity fully satisfied in the following volume of this seiies, called 
“ The Pearl of the Andes.”] 


THE END. 




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' , I 

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776 The Wandering Jew, Part II., by Sue.20 

777 A Second Life, by Mrs. Alexander.20 

778 Social Solutions, No. 7. by Howland. 10 

779 My Friend Jim, by V/. E. Norris . . 10 

7>0 Bad to Beat, by Hawley Smart 10 

781 Betty’s Visions, by Broughton 15 

782 Social Solutions, No. 8, by Howland.10 

783 The Octoroon, by Miss Braddon.. . .20 

784 Les Miserables, Part I., by Hugo.. 20 
784 Les Miserables, Part II., by Hugo. 20 

784 Les Miserables, Part III., by Hugo. 20 

785 Social Solutions, No. 9, by Howland.10 

7S6 Twenty Years After, by Dumas 20 

787 A Wicked Girl, by Mary Cecil Hay .10 

788 Social Solution^, No. 10. b} r Howland.10 

789 Charles O’Malley, P’t I , by Lever. 20 

789 Charles O’Malley, P*t II., b} r Lever. 20 

790 Othmar, by Ouida 20 

791 Social Solutions, No. 11, by Howland.10 

792 Her Week’s Amusement, by u The 

Duchess” 10 

793 New Arabian Nights, by Stevenson. 20 

794 Tom Burke of Ours, P’t I , by Lever.20 

794 Tom Burke of Ours, P’t II., by Lever. 20 

795 Social Solutions.No.12, by Howland. 10 

796 Property in Land, by Henry George.15 

797 A Phantom Lover, by Vernon Lee. 10 

798 The Prince of the Hundred Soups, 

by Vernon Lee 10 

799 Maid, Wife, or Widow? by Mrs. 

Alexander 10| 

800 Thoms and Orange Blossoms, bv 

B. M. Clay 

SOI Bomance of a Black Veil, by Clay.10 

802 Lady Val worth’s Diamonds 1 V; 

803 Love’s Warfare, by B. M. Clay ... .10 

804 Madolin’s Lover, by B. M. Clay ^0 


Any of the above can be obtained from all booksellers and newsdealers, or wfi! be 
aent free by mail, on receipt of price, by the publishers. 

JOHN W. LOYELL COMPANY, 

Nos. 14 and 16 Vesey Street, New Yomk. 


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THE CELEBRATED 



Grand, Square and Upright 



PIANOFORTES 


4 


ARE PREFERRED BY THE LEADING ARTISTS. 

The demands now made by an educated musical public are so exacting that very few 
Pianoforte Manufacturers can produce Instruments that will stand the test which merit 
requires. SOHMER & CO., as Manufacturers, rank amongst these chosen few, who are 
acknowledged to be makers of standard instruments. In these days, when Manufacturers 
urge the low price of their wares rather than their superior quality as an inducement to 
purchase, it may not be amiss to suggest that, in a Piano, quality and price are too in- 
separably joined to expect the one without the other. 

Every Piano ought to be judged as to the quality of its tone, its touch, and its work- 
manship ; if any one of these is wanting in excellence, however good the others may be, 
the instrument will be imperfect. It is the combination of these qualities in the highest 
degree that constitutes the perfect Piano, and it is this combination that has given the 
“SOHMER” its honorable position with the trade and the public. 

Received First Prize Centennial Exhibition, Philadelphia, 1876. 
Received First Prize at Exhibition, Montreal, Canada, 1881 and 1882. 

SOHMER 00., Manufacturers, 

149-155 East 14th St., New York. 





























































































































































































































































































































































































































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